


For Him

by Marblez



Category: Shameless (US), The Host - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussion of Abortion, Explicit Language, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Racism, Teen Pregnancy, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8802724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marblez/pseuds/Marblez
Summary: ORIGINALLY STARTED AS PART OF THE NOVEMBER 'A WHOLE NEW WORLD' CHALLENGE ON ROUGH TRADE.SADLY I DIDN'T COMPLETE IT IN THE REQUIRED TIME BUT HAVE DECIDED TO POST/COMPLETE IT HERE. xThe world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.





	1. Prologue

**Title:** For Him

 **Author:** Marblez

 **Fandom/Genre:** Shameless USA

 **Relationship(s):** Mickey Milkovich/Ian Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher/Tony Markovich

 **Content Rating:** R

 **Warnings:** Slash, Het, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Homophobia, Racism, Past Child-Abuse, Minor Character Death, Teen/Underage Pregnancy, Abortion _(referenced)_  

 **Summary:** The world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.

 **A/N:** Whilst I am trained in ‘First Aid’ I am neither a doctor or nurse so please excuse any medical inaccuracies which might arise throughout this story. I’m also British and sadly have never travelled to America so there’s probably going to be some cultural mistakes as well. Sorry. X

 

**~ FOR HIM ~  
** **~ Prologue ~**   


 

The world ended on a Tuesday.

It didn’t explode.

There wasn’t a nuclear war.

It didn’t get hit by a meteor.

Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.”

It ended because of an alien invasion.

Yup.

Actual fucking aliens.

“Ain’t no way I’m letting no fucking aliens take over my brain!” his dad had slurred angrily when the aliens had come for them that afternoon, knocking on their front door and actually asking to be let in. “Fuck off!”

Normally he would have muttered something in response, something like _“who’d fucking want to take over your brain”_ but instead he kept silent.

The end of the world was anything but a normal situation.

Instead he’d copied his father, reaching down to grab one of the many weapons lying ready to use on what had once been his mothers coffee table.

Beside him his two older brothers did the same.

His sister picked up the machete of all things.

When the aliens finally resorted to breaking down their front door it took the four of them less than five minutes to “eliminate the threat” with the practised efficiency that came from years of “everyday” violence.

“They’ll send more. Pack your shit – we need to get out of here.”

It was while he was stuffing his things into an old army kit bag that he discovered the navy blue hoodie that was far cleaner and far softer than anything else he owned…because it wasn’t his.

“Fuck…” he hissed, pulling the hoodie out quickly. “Gallagher…”

Pulling the hoodie on over his filthy tank top he set about arming himself with as many weapons as was physically possible before rushing out of his bedroom, dragging the stuffed kit bag behind him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” his dad demanded gruffly from where he was re-loading his favourite rifle.

“Need to check up on a friend…” he muttered, rubbing self-consciously at the corner of his mouth with the side of his thumb. “Won’t take long…”

His dad scoffed.

“What the fuck for?”

He shrugged, keeping his mouth shut out of fear that his father would see straight through any lit he managed to come up with.

It wasn’t like he could tell him the truth, was it?

_Sorry, dad…just want to go check up on the guy I’ve been fucking for over a year…make sure he’s not been turned into an alien…_

Yeah.

Not fucking likely.

His dad would shoot him quicker than he’d shot the aliens.

“…not gonna wait for you, boy.”

“Don’t need to. I know my way to the hunting cabin.”

His dad’s expression gave nothing away at having his plan guessed.

It was obvious really.

The family hunting cabin was years old, had been won in an illegal poker game and was very much in the middle of nowhere. It was hidden away in a dense area of woodland, the cabin blending in with the trees around it.

They’d be able to hide out there for a good few months.

Turning to his only sister he shoved the bag filled with his belongings in her hands, muttering something about taking it to the cabin for him before he all but sprinted out of the house.

Taking the quickest route to the Gallagher house he arrived just in time to see a group of those fucking aliens breaking down the front door and forcing their way into the house.

“Oh, hell no…”

Arming himself with a pistol in each hand he sprinted around the side of the building and all but launched himself up the back stairs, throwing his entire weight against the back door so that it flew open with a loud bang.

Fiona was screaming, fighting against an alien for custody of the little black kid who was screaming just as loudly as his big sister.

Mickey put a bullet in the aliens head without a second thought.

“Mickey!”

It wasn’t his Gallagher that called out to him, it was the older one.

Lip.

He was struggling with one of the aliens, desperately holding the thing against one of the dirty walls of the Gallaghers front room with one hand as his other hands scrabbled around for a weapon.

Mickey pressed one of the pistols he was using into the other guys hand before rushing through the front room to deal with the alien that was trying to drag the annoying female Gallagher out of the front door.

Debbie.

Four shots later and he had his arms full of sobbing teenager no matter how much he tried to push her off of him, locking her arms around his waist as she pressed her face into the dirty t-shirt covering his chest.

“Fuck…”

“It’s a good thing you came when you did…”

“Where’s Gallagher?” he demanded, turning to face the eldest of the dysfunctional family with the hysterical one still attached to his chest, snatching a bloody kitchen knife off of the little psychopath before he could do any harm to any of the humans. “Ian. Where’s Ian?”

“ROTC camp…” Fiona whimpered weakly. “Oh God…”

Shit.

Shit!

His Gallagher wasn’t there!

He wasn’t safe!

“Shit…”

“We need to get out of here…” Lip muttered, pulling Debbie away from the ex-con and into his own arms, stroking his hand across the back of her head as she continued to tremble from head to toe. “Fuck…this is insane…”

“No kidding. Look, my dads heading out to his hunting cabin,” he told them, worrying his bottom lip with his tobacco stained teeth. “Pack up some of your shit and I’ll take you there.”

“Who knew I’d ever be grateful to know a fucking Milkovich…” Lip muttered with a mirthless grin.

Mickey grunted.

For a moment all Fiona could do was blink, obviously still trying to catch up with everything that had happened before she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and started barking out orders to her siblings.

“Debbie, pack up yours and Liam’s clothes for me but remember you’ve got to carry it. Lip – can you grab anything that might be useful? Carl…”

Tuning out the rest of the frenzied conversation Mickey stepped out onto the front porch, keeping an eye of for any more of those things while the dysfunctional family hurried to pack up their things behind him.

It was as he was keeping watch that he noticed someone sprinting along the pavement and for a moment he allowed himself to hope that it was…but as he watched the figure get closer and closer his hopes were dashed.

It wasn’t his Gallagher.

It was Tony.

As the sandy haired man slowed down as he approached the Gallagher house, his face flushed from the exertion, Mickey remembered Ian telling him how the cop had always had a thing for Fiona Gallagher.

“Mickey?” Tony panted, holding his side tightly. “What are…”

“You one of those freaks?” Mickey demanded sharply, bringing his pistol up quickly and aiming it at the other mans head.

“No. No, I’m just me…” Tony replied quickly. “Look at my eyes if you don’t believe me. No weird light. I promise.”

Mickey motioned for him to approach.

Squinting at the other mans eyes he searched his eyes for the weird glow that he’d noticed coming from the aliens eyes earlier.

Nothing.

Tony, the cop, was still human.

“Are the Gallaghers all right?”

“They’re packing,” Mickey grunted, trying not to show how much his heart was aching within his chest as he continued. “But…not Ian…he’s away with that fucking army shit he does so…so they’ve probably already got him…”

His stomach clenched.

“Fuck…”

“Yeah…”

“Tony?” Fiona gasped from behind Mickey, rushing out to throw her arms around the man who was hopelessly in love with her. “Oh My God it’s so good to see you…”

Mickey shifted uncomfortably.

He wasn’t good with public displays of emotion; they didn’t exist in the Milkovich household as far as his dad was convinced.

Emotions made you weak.

Emotions were for pussies.

That was why he’d never had the nerve to tell Firecrotch that…that he…that the feeling was mutual…

He cleared his throat loudly.

“You ready to go, woman, or are we just gonna wait around for more of those things to show up?” he demanded gruffly.

Fiona nodded sharply, stepping back.

“Where are you going?” Tony asked worriedly.

“Terry Milkovich has a hunting cabin. Mickey’s going to take us there…” Fiona answered softly. “Have you…have you got a plan?”

“I…no…no, I don’t…”

Mickey sighed.

His dad was going to fucking kill him…

“Then you’d better come with us…” Fiona announced calmly, pulling the handsome cop inside the messy house. “You can help carry the food.”

And that was how Mickey found himself sneaking out of Chicago with every Gallagher kid other than the one he came for and a fucking cop.

Yep.

It was definitely the end of the world.

~ * ~


	2. Chapter One

**Title:** For Him

 **Author:** Marblez

 **Fandom/Genre:** Shameless USA

 **Relationship(s):** Mickey Milkovich/Ian Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher/Tony Markovich

 **Content Rating:** R

 **Warnings:** Slash, Het, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Homophobia, Racism, Past Child-Abuse, Minor Character Death, Teen/Underage Pregnancy, Abortion _(referenced)_  

 **Summary:** The world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.

 **A/N:** Whilst I am trained in ‘First Aid’ I am neither a doctor or nurse so please excuse any medical inaccuracies which might arise throughout this story. I’m also British and sadly have never travelled to America so there’s probably going to be some cultural mistakes as well. Sorry. X

 

**~ FOR HIM ~**

**~ Chapter One ~**

Lying on his back on the cold, hard ground with his arms curled under his head serving as some sort of a pillow Mickey found himself gazing up at the stars high above him in the night sky through the small gaps in the dense trees, the branches still covered with an abundance of green leaves despite that fact that December was approaching all too quickly.

They’d been walking for almost five weeks now, the journey taking significantly longer than it normally would have done even on foot due to a combination of different reasons.

Number One; they couldn't use the main roads or even some of the back roads for fear of being spotted and were therefore left with no other option than to traverse whatever sort of uneven terrain they came across on the journey north into Wisconsin, the state in which the Milkovich hunting cabin resided. Parts were relatively flat, open acres of farmland which they crossed as quickly as they possibly could due to the lack of cover. Other parts were dominated by seemingly endless hills which, once they did eventually reach the top, gave way to qualify endless valleys. As with the roads bridges were a no-go and so whenever they came across a river or a stream they were forced to cross them the old fashioned way; by getting wet feet. A couple of times they'd come close to being swept away, the force of the water stronger than any of them had anticipated, but they'd clung on to each other and eventually made it across. It was a mercy when they found themselves pressing on through the densely wooded areas they came across, such as the one they were currently taking shelter in, because the trees hid them from view and they could take their time, rest when needed. The trees also provided some shelter from the plummeting temperatures, December only a week or so away, and meant that they could have a small fire at night.

Number Two; they were travelling with a toddler who tired easily due to the fact that he had to take at least three steps keep up with a single one of theirs which resulted in them taking turns carrying the small boy on their backs. Unfortunately, whilst helping Liam, this arrangement meant that those carrying him would tire quicker than they normally would.

Number Three; of the rest of them only Mickey, Lip and Tony were in any sort of physical shape to deal with such a physically challenging journey. Debbie had proven herself to be rather clumsy when not walking on slabs of concrete which had resulted in some badly scraped hands and knees and, despite being as healthy as anyone who drank and smoked as much as they all did could claim to be, Fiona tired easily. Carl, for all his normal uncontrollable energy, had become lethargic and uncooperative after a only couple of days, complaining that his legs and feet hurt, begging for them to stop for frequent rest breaks.

These were denied.

Honestly, it was only their stubborn determination to survive that had kept them going.

His stomach gave an almighty rumble, so loud he feared it might have woken some of the others sleeping around the small fire they had risked building in order to combat the plummeting temperature, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since that morning. Food was running worryingly low, Fiona having proved to be worth her weight in gold when it came to knowing how to make food stretch thanks to her years spent feeding her siblings with next to nothing, and Mickey hoped that they made it to the cabin before they ran out.

He did _not_ fancy risking all their lives raiding some poor saps kitchen or a convenience store.

They'd already had a couple of close calls, caused by situations where they had no other choice than to travel along the road or even the railway lines at one point. No matter how brief these moments had been or how quickly they had travelled it had been too close.

Once they'd only just dropped down into a ditch alongside the railway line in time to avoid a train, operated by people with glowing rings around their pupils who were dressed entirely in white. It sped up to the point where they had been but had then abruptly slowed down, making it perfectly clear that those operating it were looking out for them. Mickey, literally lying on top of Debbie, had pressed his hand across her mouth the muffle her uncontrollable sobs until the train had finally moved on, the aliens annoyance at “missing” them obvious.

Another time it hadn't been an alien dressed in white that had almost stumbled across them but a family, all of them with the same glowing eyes. The family had obviously been out for a picnic and were walking through the same woods they had been traversing at the time, resulting in the group of humans concealing themselves under piles of leaves and in bushes. Luckily the family weren't as observant as the ones dressed in white were and completely missed them, walking within a couple of feet of where Mickey huddled with Fiona and Liam.

Neither of these incidents compared to their most recent close call, however…

~ * ~

_“I don't like this…”_

_Mickey grunted, voicing his agreement with the hissed statement._

_Their group had paused on the banks to the most recent river they'd come across, taking a quick moment to refill their water bottles, before considering how to move forwards. It was by far the widest river they'd come across since setting out on their journey, not to mention the first one where the current had actually looked as though it could do some serious damage which explained the formidable bridge which dominated the surrounding landscape._

_Tony and Lip had tested the water with a long branch, a branch which had snapped as they held it under to gauge the depth and in doing so confirming that it was too strong for them. They'd then scouted up and down the bank, going as far as they dared before returning with the distressing news that rather than growing narrower further along it only grew wider._

_They had to cross here._

_They had to use the bridge._

_“Fiona, if we try to cross that river like we crossed the others it_ will _kill us,” Tony muttered, his tone deadly serious. He obviously wasn't any happier about the fact that they had to take such a blatant risk. “We could try finding another crossing point but that could take days, not to mention it'll take us off of the route which Mickey knows. We've got no map. No compass. If we get lost out here we'll dead in a matter of days. I'm sorry, but it's the truth.”_

_“But…what if we're seen?” Debbie mumbled tearfully from where she was stood holding a dozing Liam in her arms. Carl shifted beside her, obviously on board with his sisters concerns but unwilling to add his own voice to them. “I don't…I don't want to become one of them…”_

_Given that they'd seen half-a-dozen vehicles drive across the bridge since they'd been there meant that her fear was a valid one. Unfortunately Tony’s reasoning made perfect sense._

_“If we are…” Lip spoke up, his hand dropping to the pistol tucked into the back of his jeans. It was the one Mickey had given him when he'd arrived at the Gallagher house, the teenager refusing point blank to give it back under the circumstances. Mickey had let it go, still having the other pistol. Tony had his service weapon as well. Unfortunately what they didn't have were any spare bullets so if they ever did have to use them they'd have to make every shot count. The others, barring Liam, we're all armed with kitchen knives. “…then we'll handle it.”_

_Given the length of the bridge it wasn't practical for them to split up and so they'd made sure that all of their belongings were as secured to their bodies as they could be, Lip volunteering to carry Liam, before scrambling up onto the road and beginning to hurry across the bridge._

_Lip and Fiona had led the way, Debbie close behind as she clutched hold of her big sisters hand, with Liam peering back at the rest of them over Lips shoulder. Carl had been next, struggling to carry his large pack, stumbling more than once. Mickey and Tony were last._

_They were halfway across when Mickey heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching car, coming from behind them and travelling at speed if the sounds were to be believed._

_“Fuck!” he cursed loudly, pulling his gun out of where he'd stashed it in the pocket of his hoodie. Ian's hoodie. It was completely filthy now. “Car! Move! Get to the fucking trees!”_

_Adrenaline coursing through their veins the six of them sprinted as fast as they could, Liam whimpering as he was bounced unpleasantly in Lips arms. They would have made it were it not for Carl losing his footing and hitting the ground like a ton of bricks, his breath rushing out of his lungs as blood began pouring from where his chin had connected with the tarmac._

_Fiona screamed, shifting her body with the obvious intention of going back for him._

_“Carl!”_

_“We've got him!” Mickey boomed just as he and Tony reached Carl, both of them reaching down at the same moment to haul the twelve-year-old up by his armpits. “Keep going!”_

_Fiona, Debbie, Lip and Liam had just disappeared into the trees when the car turned the final corner in the road behind them and appeared on the bridge. There was no way that the occupants of the car, a chrome plated sports car nonetheless, could miss Mickey, Carl and Tony._

_“Shit…”_

_Between them Carl trembled with obvious fear, for once acting his age as his age as he struggled to hold back tears as they three of them watched the car overtake them and pull over in such a way as to make it obvious that they were being cut off from continuing._

_“Stay behind me, Carl,” Tony ordered, pushing the boy until his significantly smaller frame was completely hidden behind his own bulkier frame. “You get the chance you run, OK?”_

_Carl whimpered softly in agreement._

_The sunlight caught on the reflective car doors as they swung open, making both of them flinch as they struggled to keep their enemy in their sights as they emerged from the vehicle._

_As far as human beings went they were both aesthetically pleasing, the driver the epitome of tall, dark and handsome with his chocolate coloured skin and tight, curly hair whilst the passenger was a petite young woman with flaming red hair, a smattering of freckles and a smile which seemed almost genuine as she turned it on them, hand held out placatingly._

_“Please, place your weapons on the ground,” she spoke softly, gently as she slowly advanced on them. Rather than obeying her both Tony and Mickey raised their pistols, the ex-cop aiming at the driver leaving Mickey with her. “We do not wish for you to harm yourselves.”_

_“Only people liable to get hurt around here are you two if you don't get out of the way and let us go,” Mickey all but growled, meeting her eerie gaze despite how much he desperately wanted to look away from the twin circles making her green eyes glow. “I mean it…”_

_“We must bring you in for your own good,” she continued, her voice just as soft as it had been before. That did more to piss Mickey off than any of the words she was spouting. “It is too dangerous for you to be out here like this. Come with us. We only wish to help you.”_

_Mickey snorted loudly,_

_“Is that what you call turning us into fucking pod-people?”_

_“We have brought peace to your world,” the male spoke up for the first time, his voice surprisingly deep but no less calm than his colleagues. “There is no hunger. There is no violence. Please, place your weapons down and come with us so that we can care for you.”_

_“Peace?” Tony scoffed. “You haven't brought peace. You've taken away our free will.”_

_“The human race was flawed, driven by greed, lust, anger…” the female spoke up once more, her voice grating on Mickey’s nerves in every way possible. “By taking them as hosts we have saved them from themselves, just as we shall save you. Please, you have nothing to fear.”_

_“Bitch, you just told us you want to put an alien in our brains to take away our free will,” Mickey scoffed, taking off the safety catch off of his gun. “How is that nothing to fear?”_

_“You will find peace…”_

_“I don't know what you think you know about the human race but I can tell you this,” Tony announced, making a show of taking his own safety catch off. “Subjugation of a species isn't a way to bring about peace. It's a crime. It's taking away their rights and freedoms. Yeah, we'd like to live in a world of peace but it should be one of our own making. Not yours.”_

_“We have brought peace to many planets before yours,” she insisted, still holding her hands out towards them as though her harmless appearance would convince them to do as they wanted. “Please, place your weapons on the ground and come with us. You will find peace.”_

_“You know what, bitch?” Mickey snapped sharply, having had enough. His finger squeezed on the trigger before he'd even made the decision to do so and she dropped like a stone, a bright red stain appearing the centre of her white top above her heart. “Fuck. You.”_

_Her colleague flinched backwards, apparently not having anticipated that either of them would actually shoot just as Mickey leaned down and spat on the ground beside the growing pool of blood, his actions blatantly disrespectful before he trained his gun on the man._

_“What were you saying about there being no more violence?”_

_Something akin to anger flashed in the man's glowing eyes as he faced off against them._

_“This is precisely why we're trying to help you…”_

_“Yeah?” Mickey snorted. “Well maybe you should have asked first.”_

_That said he fired his second shot of the day, this time catching the man in the shoulder and sending him spinning around before slumping to the ground beside the car. Carl whimpered, his hand latching on to the back of Tony’s jacket whilst the ex-cop stared in open mouthed shock at the fatally wounded man, his hand slowly lowering his own gun down to his side._

_“We're not perfect,” Mickey told the alien as he moved to stand over him, smoking gun held casually against his side. “Fuck, we are far from perfect. But do you know what we are?”_

_A pained whimper was his only response._

_“We're free.”_

_“The Seekers will never stop looking for you,” the man choked out weakly. “Never.”_

_~ * ~_

Everyone had been shaken, partly because of the close call and partly because they'd truly seen the product of a Milkovich upbringing for the first time. Mickey had taken charge of covering their tracks, making it look like the _Seekers_ as they now knew they were called had lost control of their vehicle and crashed. He set the vehicle on fire after placing the bodies inside, relying on the deadly flames to erase any evidence that they might have left behind.

They hadn't stuck around to watch it burn, pressing on as quickly and quietly as they could so that they'd be as far away as was possible when the wreckage was inevitably discovered.

Rather than stop at nightfall they'd pressed on that night, navigating carefully by the light of moon, until they finally agreed that they were a safe enough distance away from them to stop. They'd also agreed to forgo lighting even the smallest of fires that night, huddling together for warmth in one large group under the many blankets they'd brought with them.

Since then Mickey's so called “ _special_ _skills_ ” had been treated with a kind of begrudging respect, Tony having openly admitted that he couldn't have done what needed to be done.

Somewhere in the distance and owl hooted, startling him from his thoughts and his body chose that moment to make it known that he needed to take a piss. Reluctantly he emerged from underneath the blanket he'd been using, moving carefully so as not to wake Debbie who was stretched out in the gap between him and the crackling fire, and stumbled a couple of paces away from their campsite so that he could relieve himself against a tree.

Growing up the way he had it wasn't any surprise to him that he could “ _do what needed to be done_ ” and, if he was honest, he probably would have ended up doing something similar without the motivation brought about the alien invasion had it not been for Ian Gallagher.

Not that he had wanted to admit it at the time but the redhead had seamlessly begun working his way under Mickey's skin from the very first time they'd fucked, back when Ian had been trying to retrieve his “ _boyfriends_ ” gun after Mickey had taken it from him when the spineless shopkeeper had pulled it on him during one of his regular shopping trips, the kind where he didn't actually pay for the things he wanted. Because of Gallagher he'd started thinking differently, started hearing a voice other than Terry’s in the back of his mind when he was about do something blatantly illegal, questionably legal or just plain stupid, like when he'd been contemplating killing Frank Gallagher in order to keep their relationship a secret. He'd followed Frank for over a week, waiting for the perfect time and place to strike but when the time had come for him to make his move he couldn't do it.

It wasn't that Ian cared about Frank, to be honest he hated the drunk almost as much as Mickey hated the sexist, racist, abusive piece of shit he owed his existence, such as it was, to. He could have beaten the shit out of Frank and Ian wouldn't have given a shit, had done on subsequent occasions as it happened, but committing a murder? Getting himself sent to prison for who knew how long? Ian would have hated that and so, instead, he'd punched a passing cop, violating his parole and getting himself tossed back into juvenile detention.

He'd only been out of juvie for a couple of months when the world went to hell…

And, fuck, if the last time he'd seen Gallagher they hadn't been arguing about the fact that he was still seeing that stupid ancient fuck. Norman. Nigel. No, Ned. Clenching his eyes shut as he recalled Ian's hurt expression he allowed his forehead to connect with the tree trunk.

Why hadn't he patched things up with the redhead?

Why hadn't he admitted that he was as invested in their relationship as Ian was?

It was too fucking late now.

In every way that mattered his Gallagher was gone. Oh, his body might still be wandering around somewhere but it would be Ian any more. It's be some freaking alien in his brain.

His eyes stung, practically burning as he struggled to hold back tears of pain, tears of fear, but mostly tears of regret whilst hairs hands moved through the motions of sorting out his clothing. He couldn't allow himself to cry and for the first time in more years than he'd like to count it wasn't because of his father’s belief that tears were for pussies. No. He couldn't allow himself to cry because he feared that once he started he wouldn't be able to stop.

Reminding himself that he was supposed to be on watch, having relieved Tony of the duty an hour or so ago, he pushed himself off of the tree and stumbled back towards the others.

Liam was curled up in Fiona’s arms using her shoulder as a pillow, his little body as close to the crackling fire as it could safely be. Tony had settled down on Fiona's other side, his muscular body acting a wind brake for the strong-willed woman. Carl and Lip lay head to toe sharing a blanket, the younger boy closest to the fire and both of them using their packs as makeshift pillows. And Debbie, it turned out, was a blanket thief as she had appropriated Mickey's in his absence, turning herself into a human burrito with her face towards the fire.

“Goddamnit, Gallagher…”

Grabbing a handful of branches to feed to the fire he tried to figure out if he could steal his blanket back without waking the thirteen-year-old and came to the conclusion that no, he couldn't. Sighing deeply he silently cursed himself for going soft as he retreated from the fire, abandoning his blanket for the time being, and took a seat a couple of paces away from them, his back resting against one of the many trees as he jammed his hands in his pockets.

If it had been anyone but Debbie he'd probably have retrieved his blanket but of the five Gallagher's he'd rescued she was the one who reminded him the most of Ian and not just because of her flaming red hair and freckles. She talked almost as much if not more than Ian did, always finding something to chat about, and was painfully perky at all hours of the day. There was also a kindness about her aura, soothing and calming those around her. Mickey had a feeling that this could all change once she reached puberty and hormones took over.

The same thing had happened with Mandy, after all, although a lot of the changes he'd seen in his sister had been aggravated by their father’s drunken abuse. He'd never forgive Terry for the way he'd treated Mandy when he was drunk, nor would any of his brothers. They all knew about the baby and the abortion, products of their father’s unwanted “attention” and he hated knowing that his sister was stuck in a cabin with her tormentor. He knew Joey and Iggy would look out for her but neither of them could really stand up to Terry, weren't strong enough (or crazy enough) to fight him like Mickey was. It was good practise, he reasoned pessimistically, for the day when Terry inevitably found out about his sexuality.

He'd need all the practise he could get when that day finally came...

Fiona let out a deep sigh in her sleep, nuzzling her nose into Liam’s dark, curly hair and in response Tony rolled over, sliding his arm around her waist as he moulded his body along the curves of her back. Mickey snorted; the fact that the ex-cop had a _thing_ for the eldest Gallagher was painfully clear to anyone who spent even the shortest amount of time with the couple.

How she felt about Tony's feelings, however, remained a mystery but given her limited options Mickey had a feeling that she'd end up returning his feeling sooner or later. After all she currently had a choice between a kind-hearted ex-cop, a racist who liked to use his fists to get his own way, a criminal with a broken moral compass, a criminal with a screw loose, a closeted homosexual or one of the random survivors they'd bumped into along their way.

It had seemed far too good to be true when they'd literally bumped into the first group of supposed survivors claiming to be humans, also travelling by foot and avoiding the roads.

~ * ~

_“Fuck!”_

_Mickey ducked, flinching back just in time to avoid the baseball bat which had been swung at his face, his feet slipping on the damp leaves covering the ground and sending him dropping down onto his backside with a painful thud. Mercifully his instincts remained unaffected and before the owner of the baseball bat could do more than prepare to swing again he had his gun out and up, aimed at the young man's face. This was, apparently, enough of a deterrent._

_“Wait!” an older voice called out frantically as Tony and Lip both trained their guns on the young man, preceding the appearance of a group of about fifteen men, women and children. They all looked more than a little worse for wear, a couple sporting slings. “We're human!”_

_“Yeah,” Lip scoffed clearly. “Right.”_

_“What? You think you're the only humans left on the planet?”_

_“No,” Fiona responded, her voice tight. “But that doesn't mean we're going to believe everyone who claims to be human, especially not when they attack us without provocation.”_

_“I apologise for that,” the oldest man among them, obviously their leader, murmured. “As I'm sure you can understand were a little jumpy but that's no excuse. Thomas, apologise.”_

_“I will not!” the young man with the baseball bat snapped, glaring fiercely down at Mickey. “Why are we arguing about us being human when they could be aliens for all we know?”_

_Even Mickey, feeling unpleasantly vulnerable, could understand where he was coming from._

_“He's got a point…”_

_Above him the baseball bat trembled as its owner responded to Mickey's statement,_

_“I am not a boy!”_

_At first he thought that his attacker was offended by the youthfulness implied by the word ‘boy’ but a closer study, albeit a relatively quick one, of his jawline, of his nose and the shape of his eyes, not to mention the curl of his eyelashes, left Mickey chuckling with the realisation that the “young man” who had attacked him was in fact a “young woman” with short hair. It didn't help that she was wearing an old jacket over baggy sweater and a pair of loose jeans._

_“…could've fooled me…”_

_“They've got normal eyes,” Carl suddenly piped up from where he stood holding Liam's hand, Debbie on the toddlers other side. Everyone turned to frown at him. “They're not glowing.”_

_Now that the twelve-year-old had drawn attention to their eyes it was plain to see that they were in fact as human as they said, just as it was also plain to see that Mickey and the others were also completely human. A collective sigh of relief spread through pout the group and Mickey remembered feeling that way when Tony had confirmed in a similar fashion that he was human upon arriving at the Gallagher house. He should've known to look at their eyes…_

_“Mickey,” Fiona called out after a long moment. He turned, blinking across at her as she frowned. “Why don't you put that away now that we know we're all completely human?”_

_Oh._

_Right._

_Everyone else had already lowered whatever weapon they were holding apart from him and the young woman he was currently aiming at who, when they met each other's gaze once more, made a show of adjusting her grip on the baseball bat as though expecting trouble._

_“Mickey…”_

_“Ayla…”_

_It was the young woman's turn to glance quickly across at her leader, his tone of voice making it perfectly clear that he wanted her to stand down before anyone else happened._

_Mickey sighed,_

_“On three?”_

_Ayla nodded once, her messy fringe falling into her eyes._

_“One.”_

_“Two.”_

_“Three.”_

_His gun and her baseball bat stayed exactly where they were, prompting an exasperated noise to escape Fiona's lips even as Mickey chuckled, nodding his head in approval before finally lowing his weapon. Ayla did the same, resting the bat on her shoulder casually._

_“Seriously, Mickey?”_

_“What?” he laughed, pushing himself up off the ground with a pained groan, rubbing at his bruised backside with one of his hands. “Ugh! What the fuck did I land on? Hurts like a…”_

~ * ~

They'd swapped stories for an hour or so, giving each other advice about the terrain ahead as they were travelling in opposite directions. Ayla had, much to Mickey's amusement, attached herself to him and at one point had suggested that they sneak off for a quickie.

He'd let her down gently and, for the first time in his life, had been honest about why.

“ _Seriously_?” she groaned with disappointment before letting out a sharp hiss. “ _Shit! Worlds gone to hell and the interesting ones are still fucking gay! How is that at all fair? Seriously_!”

His laughter had been explosive and uncontrollable, almost reducing him to tears as she had continued to rant about the injustice of it all, complaining that she was doomed to be single for eternity thanks to the “ _inconsiderate assholes_ ” who had decided to invade their planet before she had found the one…or even one that “ _would do_ ” given the circumstances…

It still made him chuckle to think of their first encounter with other survivors, the first of several encounters as it turned out. They bumped into more humans than aliens due to the fact that everyone was avoiding the roads and it was somewhat reassuring to realise how many people had managed to survive the initial invasion, mostly in small groups like theirs. They'd bumped into a handful of couples, one memorably couple bring a World War Two vet and his wife who had moved at the rate of a pair of snails but had been absolutely determined not to give into their invaders.

Mickey chuckled, looking around at the faces of his companions in the pre-dawn light.

It was safe to say that the human race wasn't going to give up without a fight.

~ * ~


	3. Chapter Two

**Title:** For Him

 **Author:** Marblez

 **Fandom/Genre:** Shameless USA

 **Relationship(s):** Mickey Milkovich/Ian Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher/Tony Markovich

 **Content Rating:** R

 **Warnings:** Slash, Het, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Homophobia, Racism, Past Child-Abuse, Minor Character Death, Teen/Underage Pregnancy, Abortion _(referenced)_  

 **Summary:** The world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.

 **A/N:** Whilst I am trained in ‘First Aid’ I am neither a doctor or nurse so please excuse any medical inaccuracies which might arise throughout this story. I’m also British and sadly have never travelled to America so there’s probably going to be some cultural mistakes as well. Sorry. X

 

**~ FOR HIM ~**

**~ Chapter Two ~**

Given that the last time Mickey had visited the cabin it had been the height of summer, visiting one of his honorary uncles who had been using the cabin as a hideout after a convenience store robbery gone wrong, he couldn't really be blamed for not recognising the trail which led up to the cabin. It hadn't been until he'd come across a familiar tree, struck by lightning years ago and very distinct because of it, that he realised they'd gone too far.

Retracing their steps had made him somewhat unpopular with the rest of the group but he'd ignored them, focusing on finding the trailhead missed. Not only did it look different with winter approaching, most of the leaves gone apart from a few stubborn ones, it was also more overgrown than he remembered which given their current circumstances was probably a good thing. In a couple of places the path almost looked unusually but Mickey was determined even after a bush had savaged at the skin of his hand when he was pushing it out of the way for the others, leaving deep gashes in the tender skin of his palm, and all too soon the narrow path widened out to reveal an equally overgrown clearing which had obviously been created around the old-fashioned log cabin which sat at the centre of it.

“…that's _it_?”

He couldn't blame Fiona for sounding more than a little bit unimpressed. It wasn't like the cabin had been in a good condition since Terry had won it in a poker game and since then it had pretty much been left to rot when it wasn't being used as a place to hide from the cops.

As had been popular at the time that the cabin had originally been built it had a front and back porch, identical in every way with six vertical beams and ten angled struts to support the roof, and a slightly off centre exterior stone chimney which had most probably been built first what with the way the A-frame roof of the cabin had been shaped around it at that particular end. Patches of dark green moss were visible, particularly on the roof, and the steps leading up to the front porch were both broken and desperately in need of repair.

Of the windows they could see from their angle of approach one had been boarded over completely whilst another had a large crack running through the centre of pane of glass.

If it wasn’t for the smoke rising from the top of the chimney it would appeared abandoned.

“Yup,” Mickey responded with a shrug. “C’mon. Let's get inside before it starts raining.”

It had been threatening to do so all day…

“Take one more fucking step and I'll fucking drop you!”

Mickey froze, his hand automatically reaching for his pistol even he scanned the area around them for the owner of the muffled voice, finding them tucked behind a nearby tree with only their arms visible, arms which were aiming an M16 assault rifle towards them.

“I mean it!” the muffled voice called out once more as Tony shifted slightly. “I'll drop you!”

Mickey frowned, his brain finally identifying the owner of the garbled voice.

“Iggy!” he called out sharply, leaving his pistol in his pocket as he brought his hands up parallel with his head, showing his open palms. “Stop being a fucking idiot. It's me. Mickey.”

“You was meant to be alone.”

Joey's sharp voice came from the back porch of the cabin, prompting Mickey to look across just as his twenty-two year old brother rounded the end of the cabin armed with an AK47.

“Well, I'm not…” Mickey responded dryly, unable to resist rolling his eyes towards his closest brother in both personality and age. “… _obviously_ …”

He wasn’t the only one to jump when the front door of the cabin was thrown open with enough force to send it crashing into the wall, his eyes flickering to the front porch just as Terry Milkovich emerged from the house armed with his own assault rifle, a black M16 like the one Iggy was armed with.

“What the fuck are you doing bringing strangers here?” Terry demanded sharply, gesturing to the rest of the group with his rifle before fixating on his son who had moved to put himself between his father and the three younger members of the Gallagher family. “You should have known better than that!”

Terry froze, his hard gaze turning even more glacial.

“Or perhaps you brought them here on purpose,” he all but growled, making a show of pulling back the cocking lever to ready the weapon as he jumped down off of the porch, advancing on Mickey. “Perhaps you’re one of them. Perhaps you’ve brought them here to take us, to turn is onto your slaves…”

“….fucks sake…” Mickey hissed to himself before glaring at his father. “We’re _not_ aliens, dad, and these are strangers. They’re the Gallagher’s.”

Fiona smiled nervously towards the Milkovich patriarch, a difficult man at the best of times but an even worse one now that the aliens had invaded.

“And a cop,” Iggy pointed out, stepping out from behind the tree with his gun aimed towards Tony. “Officer Markowitz. How nice to see you again…”

“Isn’t he the one who arrested Jamie?”

Tony winced. He _had_ been one of the officers involved in the eldest Milkovich brothers arrest a little over a year ago during an attempted bank robbery.

“What the _fuck_ does that matter if he’s one of _them_?”

It took every ounce of Mickey’s self-control to stay perfectly still as his father continued to advance towards him, his finger curling around the trigger.

_“No!”_

A screech, as near to inhuman as any of them had ever heard, accompanied the sudden arrival of the only female member of the Milkovich family. It seemed as though Mandy literally burst out of the cabin, the seventeen-year-old flying through the air as she launched herself off of the porch. Even though she wasn’t wearing any shoes and her feet were therefore vulnerable to the sharp branches littering the ground, she sprinted as fast as she could towards the new arrivals, throwing herself between her father and brother.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mandy demanded sharply. “That's Mickey!”

Terry growled, reaching out to physically shove her out of the way however, given how used all of his children were to him thrown them around Mandy rolled with the motion until she caught her balance enough to return to her spot between father and son. This time she ended up with tip of the barrel in line with her forehead, her eyes hard as she glared up at her father’s even as she leant forwards until the front sight was pressing against her skin.

Her bronze coloured eyes, glistening with emotion met the cold grey eyes of her father.

“If you want you shoot _your son_ you'll have to go through me first.”

“Mandy,” Terry growled, finger flexing around the trigger. Everyone, Milkovich brothers included, held their breaths as Mandy planted her feet more firmly in the ground. “Move.”

Mandy held her ground.

“Mandy, move out of the way,” Mickey muttered, placing his hand on his sister’s shoulder in an attempt to encourage her to take herself out of the line of fire. She shook her head, biting down on her lip as he tears of frustration and fear threatened to spill over. “Mandy…”

“We can prove we're human!” Debbie piped up suddenly, her voice sharp. She let out a terrified squeak when Iggy and Joey aimed their guns towards her, her body visibly beginning to shake even as she continued quickly. “If…if we were possessed our eyes would have that…that glowing ring around the pupil…and they don't…because we're still human…”

“…that true?” Iggy eventually enquired with a frown, breaking the silence which had fallen following Debbie's statement, a silence during which everyone had made quick work of check everyone else's eyes. “I thought that was just…just a trick of the light or some shit…”

“It’s no trick. If someone's possessed they get this weird circle in their eyes,” Mickey grunted, unsure whether or not they'd actually believe him. “Trust, I've been up close and personal to a couple of them. I saw it plain as day. Humans, real humans like all of us, don't have it.”

Terry grunted.

Knowing that they'd get nowhere with Mandy protecting him like she was Mickey stepped out from behind her, hands up above his head as he locked his piercing grey eyes with those of this father, silently willing the older thug to recognise the truth in what had been said.

“If you're as human as you say you are then you disobeyed me, boy,” the Milkovich patriarch finally growled, lowering his rifle a fraction. Mandy, angry at having her offer of protection denied, huffed loudly. Mickey, however, nodded. “Bringing strangers here…”

“Already told you they're not strangers,” Mickey interrupted him. “It's the Gallagher's.”

Before anyone could protest Mickey was on the ground, blood flowing from his temple where the butt of his father’s rifle had connected when the older man had swung it at his head. Someone, possibly Debbie, let out a shrill scream of fear in response. Mickey, however, was focusing on not throwing up as his brain seemed to throb inside his skull.

It was an all too familiar feeling.

“Don't interrupt me, boy!” his father snapped, kicking him in the side none too gently. Everyone else stood frozen, the Gallagher's in frightened disbelief of the violence they'd just witnessed, the Milkovich's unwilling to draw attention to themselves for fear that the violence would be transferred to them. “You _knew_ I wouldn't want them coming and you brought them here anyway! What the _fuck_ were you thinking you pathetic little faggot?”

As always that particular insult sent a shiver of fear lancing up and down his spine. One day his father wouldn't be using that particular phrase because it was his “go-to” insult of choice when addressing his sons; he'd be using it because he knew the truth about Mickey and his sexual orientation.

But that day wasn't today.

“I thought…I thought they'd be useful…” Mickey groaned, his mind sluggish as he struggled to come up with an explanation that would placate his father. “We've got no idea how long we'll be here so there's strength in numbers. Plus, they're a smart bunch and they're natural born survivors. They'd have to be with a piece of shit like Frank Gallagher for their father…”

There was a pause as Terry thought this explanation over.

“…and the cop?”

Mickey sighed.

“He was there, with them, when I found them,” Mickey explained softly, checking his hand to see if the bleeding had slowed at all. It hadn't, seeing as how it was a head wound and they liked to bleed profusely. “Thought he'd be useful in a fight. He's big and he can shoot.”

It felt like Terry was silent for an hour, glaring around at the group Mickey had brought with him, but in reality it was only a couple of minutes from he'd finally made his decision regarding the group. Frank Gallagher was a waste of space and his wife, the infinitely absent Monica, wasn't much better although when she was high as a kite she was a wild woman in bed. Their offspring, however, had a reputation for using whatever means was necessary to get what they wanted or needed. They weren't above breaking the law, did so frequently in fact, but they still had some morals left which, in his eyes, made them pathetically weak.

Mickey was right, however, in that they _could_ be useful…

“Fine,” he grunted, resting his rifle casually on his shoulder. It was enough of a signal for Iggy and Joey to lower their own weapons, moving to join the group. “They can stay.”

Mickey couldn't blame the Gallagher’s for looking less than thrilled with this prospect.

It was an awful situation all of them had found themselves in, a case of choosing the lesser of two evils. Terry Milkovich was a foul excuse for a human being…but he _was_ a human being. They'd all have to be on their guard around him, all have to stand up to him and watch out for him when he was…well, just watch out for him full stop but he wasn't an alien race determined to wipe out humanity, remoulding it in their supposedly perfect image.

Lesser of two evils, indeed…

They heard the rain before they felt it, striking the leaves of the trees high above their heads, but all too soon the freezing cold water was striking their bare skin and clothes.

“Alright, everyone, let's get inside before we all get soaked to the skin,” Fiona muttered authoritatively, nodding towards the cabin and ignoring Terry completely. “Quickly!”

Her siblings obeyed her, following Mandy inside who had attached herself to Lip’s side. Tony, however, paused in order to help the still dazed Mickey to his feet when neither of his brothers moved to help him, steadying him as they followed the others inside the cabin.

“Iggy,” Terry called out sharply as he followed them inside the cabin. “You're on watch.”

Grumbling softly the twenty-five-year-old nodded, taking up a position on the front porch under the shelter of the roof whilst his brother followed everyone else inside the cabin.

Mickey grimaced.

It was immediately apparent that the interior of the cabin had suffered more during Terry’s ownership than the exterior had, everything looking one stiff breeze away from collapsing.

“Debs, check out Mickey's head, would you?” Fiona ordered, dropping her pack down to the floor before she started making a quick inspection of the ground floor of the cabin. Debbie nodded, dropping her own pack beside her sisters before moving to stand in front of where Mickey was leaning against the cluttered countertop which separated the kitchen from the living room come dining room in the open plan design of the cabin. “Then once you’re done I'm afraid I need you to get to work on scrubbing that kitchen from top to bottom. Ok?”

“Ugh…” Debbie complained, scrunching up her nose as she caught sight of a couple of particularly nasty stains in the kitchen area. “That's gross. I'm hope I brought some gloves…”

“How many beds are there?” Fiona continued, peering through the open door into what was effectively the master bedroom. It was in an utterly disgusting state. “Two? Three?”

“Two,” Joey answered. “Me and Iggy have been sharing the one upstairs.”

“Ok,” Fiona sighed, climbing up the first couple of steps in the open stairs case so that she could see the layout of the upstairs bedroom which overlooked the living room. “Well we'll need to figure out some way of getting a few more or at least some mattresses…”

“…the fuck do you think you're doing giving orders, bitch?” Terry growled, shoving Joey into the back of the decrepit looking sofa as he moved to stand at the bottom of the stairs, glaring up at Fiona. A shocked hush fell on the room. “ _I'm_ in charge here. You'll do as I say, understand? You can help Mandy out with the cooking and shit. Fuck knows, stupid bitch needs all the help she can get. Maybe I'll even let you keep my bed warm, if you're lucky…”

It was Tony who reacted first, spinning Terry to face him before delivering such a powerful punch to the older man's nose that he sent the thug flying backwards to land on the stairs. Obviously dazed by the lunch, blood pouring from his broken nose, Terry failed to react quick enough to stop the ex-cop when he moved to press one of the dirty kitchen knives from the nearby counter against his denim covered crotch, hard enough to make his intention plain.

For a long moment no one made a sound.

“You treat these women with anything less than the respect they deserve and I'll cut off your pathetic excuse for a cock,” Tony growled, sounding completely unlike the straight-laced policeman they were used to dealing with. “And as far as things go regarding this pitiful excuse for a cabin; you may be its owner, in name if not by law, but Fiona as the eldest woman here will be in charge of the running of it. That means she _does_ give the orders and we all do exactly what she says. I'm not a cop anymore so there's absolutely nothing to stop me from treating you exactly how you deserve. Now, do you understand?”

Terry wasn't the only one gaping across at the normally gentle young man in shock.

“Didn't know you had it in you, pig,” the eldest Milkovich eventually chuckled darkly, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his still bleeding nose as he nodded. “Takes a lot of fucking balls to threaten the likes of me. I’m still in charge but if you want the bitch to be the one running things in here, well, fine. She can play house as much as she fucking likes, OK?”

“Her name is Fiona,” Tony growled, pressing the knife harder against his crotch. “Not _bitch_.”

Terry glared, saying nothing more, but eventually nodded sharply.

“Good,” Tony sighed, finally removing the knife and dropping it back down onto the counter. He seemed to return to his usual self with a small shudder, his cheeks flushing slightly as he smiled up towards where Fiona stood in shocked silence. “You were saying?”

“Remind me never to piss you off…” Mickey chuckled, hissing slightly as Debbie's hand automatically continued to clean the wound to his temple even as she too stared at Tony. “You got a rag or something he can use? Else there'll be blood all over the floor…”

It was Carl who produced what might once had been an actual handkerchief although where he'd acquired although none of them knew which he handed silently to Terry as he pulled himself into a sitting position on the stairs, darting away as soon as the thug had taken it.

“Fiona?” Tony murmured. “You were saying?”

“Um…” Fiona mumbled blinking. “We'll…we'll need to get our hands on enough mattresses so that we all have somewhere decent to sleep as…as well as make some room for them…”

~ * ~

Mickey couldn't remember what it was like to have a mother. She'd died when he was six, overdosing on the pills she had come to rely on in order to make it through the day, and there hadn't been anyone to step into her shoes in the fourteen years since then. He had it slightly better than Mandy, however, who couldn't even remember what their mum at all.

She'd only been three when she died.

It was therefore more than a little bit strange for him to suddenly find himself being, well, there was no other way to refer to it than _cared for_ by Fiona Gallagher. Despite only being two years his senior she had an air of authority about her that came from being the head of the household for almost half her life having stepped into her absent mothers shoes when she'd only been a teenager herself, raising her siblings as though they were her own children with little or no help from her father, the infamous alcoholic with authority issues.

Fiona was good at what she did.

In no time at all she'd transformed the cabin from the dump his father had allowed it to become into a home for the eleven of them. Terry was as violent and as crude as ever but he stood by the promise Tony had forced him to make, allowing Fiona to take charge of things for now, and had even helped them when they'd raided several towns and villages for the things they needed, beginning by stealing enough single mattresses for them all to use.

Fiona, Mandy and Debbie had literally scrubbed the interior of the cabin from top to bottom. It had taken them nearly a week, the grime was so thick, but it had been worth it.

Once they'd stolen enough mattresses, always at night and always making sure not to leave any tracks behind, they had had to redesign the basic layout of the cabin to make them fit. Carl had been charged with turning the dining room table and chairs into firewood, an excellent task for a pre-pubescent psychopath with too much time on his hands, and the space created by their removal had been turned into Joey and Iggy's bedroom by stringing a couple of curtains, also stolen from various houses along the way, up to create fake walls.

Terry hadn’t insisted that he keep the master bedroom, much to everyone's surprise, but Fiona had allowed him to have it anyway. Her reasoning had been that he, as the eldest, deserved the privacy of the one bedroom with an actual door but everyone had read between the lines and figured out that keeping him in the master bedroom kept him away from them as the rest of them would all be sharing the upstairs level over the small cabin.

Once upon a time it had been a cute little bedroom with a double bed and a couple of chairs, overlooking the living room come dining area, but years of disrepute had allowed it to become a dumping ground. Mickey and Tony, once they finished patching the various leaks in the roof, had been tasked with sorting through it all to see if there was anything worth keeping before getting rid of whatever was left. Most of it, quite predictably, wasn't.

Lip, arrogant genius that he was, had been tasked with giving the generator a once over to make sure that it was working set full capacity and would continue to do so before checking that every electrical appliance was in full working order. He'd tinkered for days, tweaking this and that, until everything was running as smoothly as it could including the shower.

This had been a wonderful improvement as it had only been a lukewarm dribble until then.

Getting seven of the single mattresses up the narrow stairs to the upper level of the cabin had been more interesting than any of them could have predicted but eventually they were all ready to be organised, everyone eager to sort out the sleeping arrangements so that they could get their first good night’s sleep since the day of the invasion nearly two months prior.

Fiona, it had been agreed, took the second bed and they moved it along to the narrowest part of the upstairs level, putting up a curtain to give her the privacy she deserved. There was just enough room for Liam's mattress at the foot of her bed, the little boy absolutely dwarfed by the single mattress but more than happy with the sleeping arrangements. He'd been out like a light by the time Fiona and Debbie had finished making up his bed for him.

Having bonded unusually quickly, mostly because they were so severely outnumbered, Debbie and Mandy had put their mattress in the opposite corner to where Fiona's bed was and had insisted that a couple of curtains be put up around them. Lip had placed his mattress beside Mandy's but on the other side of the curtain, Debbie's being in the actual corner, whilst Tony's was arranged between Lip’s and the curtain creating Fiona's bedroom.

This had left only Carl and Mickey to sort out.

Carl, who had become so adept with the axe that he was now their official wood hoped for the fire, placed his against the wall meaning that his head ended up near Debbie's feet although the curtain was between them so he didn't care, their mattresses forming a line.

This left Mickey the space at the foot of Carl's mattress, placing his perpendicular to all of the others with one side resting against the wooden struts of the railing which bordered the upper level. It wasn't a bad spot, he'd decided that first night sleeping there, as he was the closest to the fire on the upper level and with the way the heat rose he was quite toasty.

Everything was finished and completed two days before the first snow of winter fell.

Their lives had taken on a familiar, reassuring routine.

It was comfortable.

They had everything that they needed for the moment.

They were as happy as they could be.

If only it could have lasted…

~ * ~


	4. Chapter Three

**Title:** For Him

 **Author:** Marblez

 **Fandom/Genre:** Shameless USA

 **Relationship(s):** Mickey Milkovich/Ian Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher/Tony Markovich

 **Content Rating:** R

 **Warnings:** Slash, Het, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Homophobia, Racism, Past Child-Abuse, Minor Character Death, Teen/Underage Pregnancy, Abortion _(referenced)_  

 **Summary:** The world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.

 **A/N:** Whilst I am trained in ‘First Aid’ I am neither a doctor or nurse so please excuse any medical inaccuracies which might arise throughout this story. I’m also British and sadly have never travelled to America so there’s probably going to be some cultural mistakes as well. Sorry. X

 

**~ FOR HIM ~**

**~ Chapter Three ~**

“Liam!”

It was a desperate cry, raised by nearly a dozen voices as they stumbled through the ankle deep snow whilst avoiding the razor like branches of the trees, desperately searching for the missing member of their group.

“Liam!”

In theory it should have been easy to find the missing three-year-old.

They should have been able to follow the tracks he’d left in the snow but the continued snowfall made that impossible given that their own tracks were being erased almost as soon as they’d made them. Any evidence of where Liam had gone had been completely erased from view by a blanket of white.

“ _Liam_!” Fiona literally screamed somewhere to Mickey’s left, her voice cracking in a way that made even his heart clench. “ _Please_ , answer me!”

Silence, broken only by the rapidly increasing wind, was their only answer.

If they didn't find the little boy soon…

When they'd realised that Liam was missing they'd all dragged on whatever protective clothing they could get their hands on before tumbling out if the cabin. Liam, on the other hand, had fled the warmth created by the constantly burning fire without even his shoes.

“Liam!”

If Liam…if Liam _died_ because of this, and that was a horrifying possibility at this point, then Mickey wasn't the only one who would be releasing his anger upon his father because who else would be responsible for the little boy running off into a snowstorm?

Who else could have caused this but Terry fucking Milkovich?

“… _fuck_ …”

~ * ~

_FOUR HOURS EARLIER…_

~ * ~

Stamping his feet on the steps leading onto the porch Mickey dumped the freshly gathered wood with the rest of the pieces yet to be attacked by Carl with his axe, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to return some feeling to the tips of his fingers which were unprotected by his tattered gloves. Eventually he gave up, reaching down to picked up a decent armful of some of the carefully sized pieces of wood Carl had done earlier, nudged the door of the cabin open with his hip after depressing the handle with his elbow and carried it over to the completely empty basket sitting to the left of the stone fireplace.

“Thanks, Mickey,” Fiona murmured from the kitchen where she and Debbie were pitting the final touches to their evening meal. It was some sort of stew, more vegetables than meat as most of their meals tended to be but the smell alone was enough to make his mouth water. Added to this was the smell of the bread Debbie had finally perfected baking a couple of days ago and had just taken out of the bread oven because, yes, apparently the cabin had had a fucking bread over built into the kitchen. “Carl? Cutlery. Iggy? Bowls. Joey? Glasses.”

As they had all grown used to doing those identified by the young woman climbed to their feet from where they'd been reclining after a hard day’s work hunting the local wildlife, raiding one of the villages a couple of hours away for done necessities of chopping up wood.

Terry was currently on guard duty, patrolling the edge of the clearing with his beloved M16.

He could hear the shower running and assumed it was Lip, washing off the muck he'd gotten covered with after the generator had decided to throw a tantrum in the snarky hours of the morning, resulting in him stripping it down completely to fix the problem. He'd only just got it working again in time for Debbie to put the carefully shaped dough into the bread oven but had continued to tinker with it throughout the rest of the day just in case it died again.

Mandy hadn't been feeling too special for the last few days so had spent most of the day in bed, curled around a hot water bottle feeling more than a little bit sorry for herself. Thinking about it she hadn't been herself for a couple of weeks, not since before they'd celebrated Christmas as best they could given the circumstances. No presents had been changed and decorations had had to be improvised out of the things that they'd had available. Fiona had managed to put together a rather impressive meal, however, to celebrate the special day.

It was a sad fact that the makeshift Christmas had been more than any of the Milkovich's had had in years, since their mother had died in fact as Terry couldn't understand the fuss.

Joey and Iggy had warmed to the Gallagher's in the weeks they'd been at the cabin together, particularly Fiona who had won them over with her cooking. It wasn't a problem, yet, but it was painfully obvious that Iggy was rapidly falling for the eldest Gallagher.

Just as with Tony, however, Fiona was completely oblivious to his feelings.

A loud thud, followed by a muffled curse, came from almost directly above Mickey confirming the fact the ex-cop in question was still up on the roof checking over the patches they had put up when they'd first arrived at the cabin. A couple of them had started leaking once the snow had begun building up on the cabins roof; the water trickling in at the most inopportune moments, usually in the dead of night, and always managed to drip on one of them. One of the ones above Mickey's bed had become something of a nightmare so he hoped that that was one of the seals Tony was reinforcing with some proper sealant which they'd acquired for that express purpose from someone's garage in a town four hours away.

They never raided the towns nearest to them, not wanting the aliens to realise that there were humans on their doorstep, and so the closest they would risk going were the towns a couple of hours out. The further away, the better. This had, of course, necessitated that they acquire a couple of of vehicles which could travel unnoticed on the roads and tracks.

It had been another moment where the Milkovich family’s illegal prowess had come in handy; two such vehicles had been acquired, given a fresh coat of paint in a completely different colour and the licence plates had been swapped out, all in the space of a week.

“Mickey?” Fiona called out, pausing to test the stew quickly. Swallowing quickly she smiled to herself and nodded, obviously satisfied with the outcome of her latest creation. “Could you let Tony know dinners ready? It's getting too late for him to be up on the roof, anyway, as the lights fading. Carl, build up the fire and then come and get a bowl of stew for Terry.”

It was common practise for all of them that whoever was on watch took their meals on the porch, be that breakfast, lunch or dinner. As far as being on “guard duty” as Carl called it they all took turns with the older ones taking the longer shifts, particularly the night shifts, but Carl and Debbie still pulled their weight when it was their turn. Only Liam was excused.

Speaking of the youngest member of their group Mickey was unsurprised to see him sat a little bit too close to the fire for comfort playing with a couple of wooden figures and some blocks which Iggy, of all people, had taken the time to create for him. They hadn't been able to bring any of the toddler’s toys with him given that space in their packs had been a premium at the time and Liam had fallen in love with his new toys as soon as he'd been handed them, throwing his arms around Iggy even prompted to say thank you. The little boy had become unexpectedly attached to the Milkovich, following him around so much and just generally staying as close to him as possible that whenever they couldn't find him they simply looked for Iggy. One of the most surprisingly things about this had been how Iggy himself had reacted; rather than ignoring Liam or trying  to get rid of him the Milkovich had reminded them all that he was an older brother by finding odd little jobs for the three-year-old to do alongside him when he was completing his own chores, by letting the little boy climb all over him when they all say around the fire in the evening, even going so far as to stay as still as possible when Liam eventually drifted off to sleep using him as a pillow.

“Was he like that with you?” Fiona had asked Mickey once as they'd stood watching Iggy hold Liam on his shoulders so that the little boy could use an old wooden spoon to clear the fallen leaves and other gunk out of the guttering, the Milkovich spluttering wildly whenever Liam flicked the leaves or gunk down towards his feet making the toddler giggle wildly. “When you were growing up, I mean?”

“Yeah, back when our mum was still alive,” Mickey had answered softly, thinking back to his earliest memories, back when he'd smiled every day and known how to laugh. “Iggy takes after her, you know? He hides it well but he's not as... _mean_ as the rest of us. Jamie, Joey and me; we all take after our dad, no doubt about it but not Iggy. He was always keeping me and Mandy entertained, one way or another, so that we wouldn't get in our dad's way…”

Heading back outside Mickey made his way around the side of the building to the back, finding the wooden ladder leaning rather precariously against the roof covering the back porch. Unlike the front porch there was no door leading inside the cabin, only a single small window looking into the curtained off area where Joey and Iggy slept. The small generator lived on the back porch, protected from the elements by a wooden cupboard fitted to the cabins exterior wall, and they'd also extended the wood store which Carl had nearly filled.

“Oi! Tony!” he called out, moving to stand at the foot of the ladder, reaching out to rest his wrists on one of the rungs, his hands hanging limply towards the ground. “Time for food!”

A series of thuds, a couple of curses and a small avalanche of snow tumbling over the edge of the porch roof pre-emptied the appearance of the ex-cop at the top of the ladder. His nose was an unattractive shade of red and his lips visibly chapped after spending so long out in the cold working on the roof. His blond hair was mostly hidden beneath a wooly hat which Mickey was pretty sure belonged to Fiona given that it was a mixture of pinks and purples but a few tufts stuck out here and there, making him look rather like a helpless dork.

“Thank God for that, I'm _starving_ ,” Tony muttered, making sure that the hammer he'd been using was safely tucked into his belt and that the nails and packets of sealant were tucked securely into his pocket before he swung his legs off of the roof, his boots automatically searching for the ladder which Mickey was holding in place with his body weight. “I think I've got all of the leaks sealed up nice and tight but we'll have to wait and see to be sure.”

Mickey found himself unable to look away from the ex-cops muscular buttocks as the taller man descended the ladder towards him, the fabric of his uniform trousers stretched tight by the movements required. His brain was quick to decide that whilst it was certainly a pleasant sight, one which he imagined several people before him had enjoyed, Tony didn't hold a patch on Ian. Tony's ass was firm, yes, but Ian's had been tight enough to bounce a quarter off thanks to all of the ROTC training he did. Mickey had always enjoyed getting a good handful of the younger boy’s ass whenever they'd ended up fucking face to face.

“…you kind of need to move, Mickey,” Tony pointed out, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts. When he realised that he was now in the other man’s way he flinched back, grunting out a startled apology as he turned to face the woods, his cheeks flaming. “I did notice that some of the grouting on the chimney is starting to come loose whilst I was up there today. Think you'll be able to help me get that sorted tomorrow? Don't want the chimney collapsing on us when the weathers this cold, do we? Mickey? Did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Mickey cleared his throat quickly, waving a hand towards Tony without turning back to look at him. “Yeah, I heard you. Tomorrow…tomorrow should be fine…no plans…”

He, just like the rest of them, we're taking each day as it came. Their chores were organised, some of them happening on a daily basis like the cooking and wood chopping, but most were a case of do-it-as-soon-as-you-can so for the most part their lives were unpredictable.

“Come on, it's bloody freezing out here and I really am starving hungry,” Tony muttered, clapping Mickey on the shoulder to get him moving before leading the way around the cabin. Terry was already gulping down the contents of the bowl he held, a chunk of bread resting on top of his rifle which was laid across his spread thighs. They'd saved one of the dining room tables before Carl could destroy it so that it could be used by whoever was on watch, allowing them to sit on the porch and still be able to see out. “Terry.”

Tony was always so polite, Mickey snorted to himself as his father grunted in response, greeting everyone, saying please and thank you all the time. The most annoying thing was that it seemed to be rubbing off on the rest of them; Mickey had thanked Debbie that morning when the girl had taken his empty breakfast plate away to be washed up even though it was simply her turn to do the washing up and therefore not a special favour.

“Mandy!” Fiona called out judged as they entered the cabin, adding another bowl to the ones she'd already lined up along the counter. Debbie was adding a portion of bread to each bowl, attempting to give them all the same amount to stop any squabbles. “Dinner!”

Mickey went to pick up one of the bowls and found his hand being struck by a wooden spoon, the force behind the impact not enough to really hurt but definitely enough to make him hiss, withdrawing his hand as quickly as he could to get out of the spoons target range.

“Hands. Now.”

A pointed nod towards the kitchen sink accompanied Fiona's sharp reprimand.

That was another thing that was taking some getting used to; people giving a damn about how often he washed his hands or indeed simply washed. Ian had commented once or twice about the layer of dirt and grime which had covered his skin 85% of the time but only in passing, not as a real complaint or anything. He'd understood that hygiene wasn't a particularly big deal within the Milkovich household. Fiona, on the other hand, had taken to nagging anyone who didn't have a shower at least every other day and wouldn't let them eat without washing their hands first even if they used a knife, fork or spoon. It had been annoying as hell to begin with but now, after so many weeks, he was more than used to it.

Grumbling under his breath Mickey followed Tony to the sink, washing his hands with some of the soap Fiona had insisted they picked up during one of their first raids. A hand towel was thrown at his face just as he was about to wipe them dry on his less than clean jeans.

Carl, Debbie and Liam had all taken their bowls and placed themselves on the floor in front of the fire by the time he was finished, passing the towel to Tony just as Lip emerged from the bathroom. He'd obviously finished his shower in a hurry as he hadn't taken the time to dry his hair, the damp curls plastered to his forehead as he leant forwards to grab his bowl.

Joey, as was his habit, had already wolfed down his dinner and was returning his empty bowl to the counter by the time Mickey was finally allowed to picked his up and if Iggy hadn't been splitting attention between his own meal and making sure that Liam didn't spill his down his front he'd probably have already finished as well. As it was he and Debbie were working together to ensure that the boy ate as smartly and sensibly as he possible could.

“Smells good, Fi,” Tony sighed appreciatively as he picked up his bowl. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Tony,” Fiona responded before moving to the bottom of the stairs, standing with her hands on her hips like the mum always did in those stereotypical movies. “Mandy!”

“Ugh…” Mandy groaned loudly, her right hand pressed to her stomach as she appeared at the top of the stairs. Her left hand moved to clutch at the bannister as she defended the wooden stairs towards them, her hair hanging around her practically ashen face in a tangle of knots and clumps. She was still dressed in her pyjamas, a grey vest top and purple tartan trousers, but had added a simple black cardigan to cover up her bare arms. “’m not hungry.”

“You haven't eaten all day,” Fiona admonished the younger girl, picking up a bowl and forcing it into Mandy's trembling hands once she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Eat.”

It was as if time stood still for a moment, Mandy staring down at the bowl of stew she held whilst almost everyone else stare at her, and then suddenly she was loving, breaking the spell as she made a mad dash for the bathroom. The bowl slipped from her fingers, her hands both moving to cover her mouth as she gagged loudly, exploding on impact with the floor sending stew splattering all over the varnished wood, not to mention everyone's feet.

“Mandy!”

Stumbling through the kitchen area Mandy flung open the door to the utility room which sat between the kitchen and the bathroom, retching loudly as she finally threw herself into the steam filled bathroom. Mickey wasn't the only one to follow her, concerned, and therefore also wasn't the only one to witness her barely making it to the toilet in time before she expelled whatever was left in her stomach. It was Fiona who ventured into the room with a noise of concern, carefully pulling the younger girls hair back from her face so that it wasn't dangling down into the toilet bowl as she continued to retch, bringing up nothing but bile.

Mickey frowned,

“I hope that's not catching…”

His sister let out a choked sob, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as she hovered in place over the toilet once her stomach had calmed if only for the briefest of moments.

“Not unless you've got some body parts you've been keeping a secret all these years…”

Her other hand returned, slowly and pointedly, to its previous position on her stomach.

No.

No _fucking_ way…

“…you're _pregnant_?”

He hadn't heard the door opening behind him, signalling the fact that Terry Milkovich had just stepped into the cabin, empty bowl in hand and eyes searching out another chunk of bread to sate his hunger. If he had he certainly wouldn't have raised his voice quite so much.

As it was there was nothing he could do but spin and stare wide-eyed at his dad when the older man slammed his empty bowl down onto the counter with enough for to crack it.

“…you're _what_?”

Unlike his son Terry Milkovich didn't sound shocked; he sounded angry. _Murderously_ angry and Mickey was suddenly reminded of the fact that Terry didn't know about the abortion his sister had had back at the start of the year, all of them having agreed to keep the pregnancy a secret from him in order to save Mandy from what would have undoubtedly been an explosively violent reaction.

“…shit…”

“You _fucking_ slut!” Terry roared, pushing his way through the group with enough force to send them all stumbling out of the way until he was in a position to grab Mandy by her hair, dragging her backwards despite her sharp scream of protest. “Who've you been fucking?”

Jumping forwards instinctively to save his baby sister from his father’s heavy fists Mickey silently prayed that it hadn't happened again, that he hadn't missed something, that he hadn't failed to protect his sister from their father during one of his drunken rampages. Joey was beside him, helping to pull their dad off of her whilst Fiona, screaming like a banshee, gathered Mandy into her arms and placed herself between the now hysterical girl and Terry.

“ _Who_?”

“Me.”

As one everyone, Liam included, switched their attention from the seething thug to the deceptively calm Gallagher who had spoken up. Mandy let out a painfully vulnerable sob as Lip slowly placed his bowl on the counter and shifted his lithe frame into a defensive stance.

He, just like the rest of them, knew what was coming next…

“I'll _fucking_ kill you!”

Pain exploded along his jawline as his father’s fist connected with his face, his father utilising his favourite method of getting people out of his way as he launched himself towards Lip. Joey ended up being shoved into the doorframe with enough force to split his eyebrow open, blood spraying everywhere as he crumpled to the floor with a pained groan, his legs flailing uncontrollably which caused his heavy boot to connect with Fiona's knee. A sickening crunch was quickly drowned out but her scream of pain as she went down with a loud thud.

Putting his hands out to stop himself from joining the other two on the floor he gasped sharply as the heels of his palms came into contact with the still hot stove top, flinching back as quickly as he could in a desperate attempt to keep his skin from being too badly burned.

“I'll teach you to mess around with my little girl!”

It wasn't lost on any of them, the irony of the situation given that Terry had been the one to cause Mandy the most damage, but there was nothing any of them could do to stop him from tackling Lip to the floor, straddling his chest with his knees pressing down on the eighteen-year-olds elbows as he began to rain punches down on his vulnerable face.

Debbie screamed, scrambling away from the violent scene as blood sprayed wildly each and every time Terry’s fist connected with her brother’s face. Given the way he was pinned down it was impossible for Lip to fight back but that didn't mean he didn't try, thrashing his body in a desperate effort to dislodge the much bigger and broader figure of Terry Milkovich.

“Dad!” Mandy screamed, jumping over Fiona's body as the older girl curled around her injured knee whilst also avoiding his brother still flailing legs. “Dad! Don't! Please!”

Iggy sprung forwards then from his seat by the fire, wrapping one of his arms around his dad's throat, using his other arm to lock it in place as he used his entire body weight to yank his father backwards. It was a move that left Terry with only two choices; hold himself in place and risk strangulation or lean backwards with the movement, releasing Lip but saving himself. He chose the latter, growling like an animal as he purposefully smashed the back off his head into his son’s nose. Stunned from the blow he should have anticipated but hadn't Iggy released him, falling onto his back with a groan of pain just as Terry refocused his attention on the bettered teenager who was attempting to pitifully crawl away from him.

“I'll teach you to lay a finger on her, you little _bastard_!”

It was Carl who darted forwards next, armed with the small axe they kept beside the fireplace for making kindling and shortening some of the more stubborn branches they collected. He swung wildly, forcing Terry to flinch backwards to avoid the sharp blade just as Tony leapt into the fray beside Mickey, each of them grabbing hold of one of Terry’s arms and forcing him down to his knees by kicking his legs out from beneath him. Mickey's hands stung like nothing he'd ever felt due to the burns but he refused to release his tight hold.

“Stop!” he gasped, voice thick with pain. “Dad! Stop!”

Terry didn't stop, fighting against them so much that Iggy and Joey, both of them dazed and grunting in pain from their own injuries, hurried over to help the two of them restrain him.

“I'll _fucking kill you_ for what you've done to my little girl!”

Spitting blood out of his mouth Lip, currently being supported by a hysterical Debbie, turned to glare at the monster who had just turned his face into a swollen mess of blood and pain.

“What _I've_ done?” he growled, rubbing a hand across his mouth to remove some of the blood gushing out of his nose. “ _What I've done_? What about what _you've_ done, you asshole, or do you really expect me to believe that you don't remember _raping_ your own daughter?”

Terry was incandescent with rage, spitting like a ravenous animal as he all but howled,

“I would _never_ do that to my little girl you sick fuck!”

“…fucking hell, you really don't remember…” Lip sighed, his voice heavy with disbelief as he showed off his bloodied teeth. A couple of them looked precariously close to falling out. “ _You_ raped her when _you_ were drunk, you disgusting _fuck_. _You_ got her pregnant and…”

“Lip!” Mandy gasped out sharply, her face completely ashen. “Don't…”

“…and she was so afraid of what you'd do that she got an _abortion_!” Lip finished, his voice increasing in both volume and pitch. “At least when _I_ fucked her it was fucking consensual.”

“Lip!” Fiona snapped, hobbling across to wrap her arms around Mandy's trembling form, supporting the younger girl even as she herself struggled with her injured knee. “ _Enough_!”

Silence fell upon the group, broken only by their heavy breathing and the occasional uncontrollable whimper of pain. Terry, still restrained on his knees, had a look of abject horror on his face, something none of them could ever recall gracing is features before.

He looked genuinely horrified…

“…Mandy?” he finally grunted, twisting his head to look over his shoulder at his only daughter who had tears running down her pale face. “Is that…true? Did I…did I…?”

Mandy nodded once, sharply, the action dislodging even more tears.

“You thought I was mum…” she explained, her voice painfully soft. “I don't…”

Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by Carl's panicked voice,

“Hey! Where's Liam?”

Even Terry, merciless thug that he was, turned to stare as the empty spot in front of the fire for a painfully long moment, each of them struggling to process the fact that _Liam wasn't there_ before their eyes began scanning the interior of the cabin in search of the little boy.

Nothing.

Nothing but an open door through which a heavy snowfall could be seen raining down…

“Shit…”

~ * ~

_“Liam?!”_

Scanning the area around him for any sign of the little boy Mickey wasn't really concentrating on where he was putting his feet so it took him completely by surprise when his right boot connected with something beneath the snow which sent him flying forwards, a startled cry of pain escaping him as he automatically put his hands out to stop his fall.

Cradling his injured hands to his chest he rolled over onto his back, absentmindedly glancing across to find out what had caused him to stumble so spectacularly…and was shocked to see a tiny little denim clad leg poking up through the snow.

_“…fuck!”_

Scrambling forwards, his pain forgotten in an instant, he began the dig around the exposed limb revealing more and more of the painfully still body as he shifted the bitterly cold snow out of the way.

“Liam? _Liam_?!” he called frantically out as he finally succeeded in exposing the boys head, his hands trembling as he brushed the snow off of the worryingly pale chocolate coloured skin. Icicles had formed on the boys eyelashes and his lips, so blue that they almost appeared to be completely black, were chapped and peeling. “… _shit_ …I've found him!”

Continuing to ignore the pain emanating from his hands he gathered the three-year-olds limp form into his arms and began rubbing his hands up and down the boy’s arms, legs, back and chest in an attempt to get some much needed warmth back into him. Liam didn't stir.

“Help!” he called out, glancing back the way he'd come. “I've found him! _I've found Liam_!”

Tony arrived first, already shrugging off his jacket as he approached which he then proceeded to wrap around the little boy after dropping to his knees beside Mickey. Iggy was next and the process was repeated, his jacket being wrapped tightly around Liam's legs.

“Liam!”

All of a sudden Fiona was there, nearly hysterical and running her hands all over Liam's face. Mickey had never seen her look so lost, so out of control as she did in that moment. This was not the young woman who took charge of them on a daily basis; this was a young woman terrified out of her mind and floundering, her panicked mind sluggish, unresponsive.

“We need to get him inside,” Tony murmured, his tone deadly serious. “Now.”

Mickey nodded in agreement.

With the help of Tony and his brother Mickey was able to get to his feet without dropping the unconscious child cradled against his chest and once there he paused for a second, allowing them to adjust the way that the jackets serving as blankets were wrapped around the three-year-olds body following the change of position as well as sorting out the way that Liam's head was resting on his shoulder, and then they were hurrying towards the cabin.

Debbie whimpered, the sound eerily like that a wounded animal might make, when they burst into the cabin where she had been anxiously waiting with Mandy.

“Liam…”

“We need to get his body temperature up,” Tony orders, pulling his t-shirt off in one smooth motion revealing his rather impressively muscled chest which Mickey noted absentmindedly was also completely hairless. “Get him out of his wet clothes and then give him here. Skin-to-skin contact is best in these sort of situations.” Nodding Mickey held the little boy in place as Fiona quickly stripped him down to his underwear, throwing the sodden fabric she removed into the kitchen area so that it was out of the way. “OK, Mickey, give him here.”

Liam looked even smaller than he had before once he was cradled again Tony's broad chest.

“Carl, could you build the fire up some more and then make sure we've got enough wood in here to keep it going for a little while?” Tony requested as he took a seat on the rug far too close to the flames for him to be comfortable. “Debbie, could you find a blanket to put around me and Liam? We need to keep the cold air away from him and I can feel a draft.”

Grateful to have been given a task to occupy her mind Debbie hurriedly disappeared up the stairs, returning only minutes later with the blankets from Liam's own bed which she carefully wrapped around the already sweating young man holding her brother close to his body, narrowly avoiding being hit in the head by Carl when he threw a piece of wood into the flames. Uncharacteristically Fiona continued to flounder, dropping down into one of the chairs and simply staring across at her youngest brother, her hands clenched on her knees.

“Oh, thank fuck…” Lip sighed shakily as he stumbled into the cabin followed closely by Joey who looked just as relieved to see the bundled up figures by the fire. “Liam…how is he? Fi?”

Fiona could only whimper softly, wrapping one of her arms around Debbie's waist when the younger girl moved to lean against her. A figure lurked in the doorway for a moment before retreating out on to the porch, pulling the door shut behind them, for which Mickey was grateful as he knew that he didn't have the energy to deal with his father just then, the main cause of Liam's current condition, and he sincerely doubted that anyone else did ether.

Yes, they'd have to talk about what happened, but later.

Much later.

“Not good,” Tony answered honestly, his voice tight as he gazed down at the face of the little boy he was gently cradling. “We need to get him warm.”

None of them got much sleep that night.

After a couple of hours Iggy swapped places with Tony, the heat finally becoming too much for him, and it was then that Liam started coughing.

Started coughing…and didn’t stop…

“Liam…” Fiona groaned weakly, rubbing her baby brother’s back as he struggled to draw in enough air between the hacking coughs. “Please…”

No amount of begging could help him to breathe any easier.

Eventually, just as the sun’s rays began filtering through the trees surrounding the cabin, they gathered around the makeshift bed they had ended up making for Liam in front of the fire once his temperature had plateaued, complete with his own mattress and bedding. His breathing seemed to be getting worse with each passing minute, a rattling wheeze clearly audible between his desperate coughs and gasps for air, and he was running a high fever. It was a small mercy that he hadn’t woken up yet.

“There’s nothing more we can do for him here,” Tony sighed, pressing the heels of his palms against his tired eyes. “He needs…he needs a doctor.”

“We _can’t_ take him to a hospital!” Lip protested, his voice slightly garbled thanks to the amount of swelling currently distorting his face. “We take him to a hospital then they’ve got him. They’ll have a soul in him in no time.”

“Not to mention the rest of us,” Joey sighed regretfully. “If they don’t catch us dropping him off then he’ll lead them straight to us. You heard what those other survivors said; the _Souls_ have access to the _Hosts_ memories.”

“We can’t risk it…”

_“But we can’t just let him die!”_

No.

They couldn’t just let him die…

But Joey was right, they couldn’t take him to a hospital either…

“…what about a clinic?” he found himself enquiring, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “They carry the sort of medicine we need, don’t they?”

“No! It would be just as dangerous to take him to a clinic…”

“I never said anything about _taking_ him to a clinic,” he interrupted his brother calmly, glancing around at them. “I think between us we’ve got _more_ than enough experience of raiding a joint to get what we need, don’t you?”

~ * ~


	5. Chapter Four

**Title:** For Him

 **Author:** Marblez

 **Fandom/Genre:** Shameless USA

 **Relationship(s):** Mickey Milkovich/Ian Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher/Tony Markovich

 **Content Rating:** R

 **Warnings:** Slash, Het, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Homophobia, Racism, Past Child-Abuse, Minor Character Death, Teen/Underage Pregnancy, Abortion _(referenced)_  

 **Summary:** The world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.

 **A/N:** Whilst I am trained in ‘First Aid’ I am neither a doctor or nurse so please excuse any medical inaccuracies which might arise throughout this story. I’m also British and sadly have never travelled to America so there’s probably going to be some cultural mistakes as well. Sorry. X

 

**~ FOR HIM ~**

**~ Chapter Four ~**

They'd decided to let Tony drive as, of the three of them, he was the least likely to break any of the traffic laws which would draw unwanted attention their way. Mickey was in the front passenger seat, assault rifle held out of view but very much ready to be used if the need arose, which left Lip stretched out on the backseat, grimacing in pain every time the car hit a pothole or a bump in the road. His sisters had tried to talk him out of coming on the raid but he'd refused and Mickey could understand why; Lip was there out of guilt, pure and simple. His baby brother was sick because of the fight he and Terry had had, a fight which could have been avoided if he had been more careful and considerate with Mandy in the past.

Terry, Joey and Iggy were in the second of their stolen cars with the eldest brother taking on the duty of driving like a normal citizen. Mickey had been surprised when his dad had agreed to come on the raid with them given that _‘helping others’_ wasn't exactly his thing but Terry had merely shrugged, announcing that if there was an opportunity to “gut me some _Souls_ ” then they wouldn't be leaving him out of it. Fiona hadn't liked it but honestly they needed all the brute force they could get if they stood any hope of pulling this raid off.

They'd left Carl in charge of guarding the cabin, armed with a pistol and a semi-automatic rifle which he'd held far too comfortably for a boy of his age, whilst Fiona and Debbie were looking after Liam. Mandy, it appeared, was suffering a horrific case of morning sickness and was completely useless once again, splitting her time between her bed and the bathroom.

Each of the young women had been left with a weapon to use should the need arise but the rest of the rather large supply of weapons hidden in various places around the cabin had been distributed between the two cars. Fiona had been _very_ unimpressed to learn about the ammunition store underneath one of the floor boards at the bottom of the stairs but this too had been distributed between them. Only Tony had commented on the fact that a lot of it appeared to be military or police issue, murmuring to himself about how many unsolved robbery cases involving ammunition he'd dealt with in the past were no longer a mystery.

Hopefully they wouldn't need to use any of the weapons that they were bringing but, given their prior experience with dealing with _Souls_ , it was definitely better to be safe than sorry.

“How will we know what medicine to take?” Tony enquired softly, guiding the car around a rather sharp bend with practised ease as he followed the car containing the three Milkovich's who had taken the lead because Iggy claimed to know the way. “I know the basics for testing most illnesses and injuries but I'm by no means a Doctor. How will we…”

“Simple; we'll take it all,” Mickey responded calmly, adjusting the way his sunglasses were sitting before settling back into his seat. All six of them were wearing reflective sunglasses so that, should anyone glance towards them whilst they were in the car, they wouldn't be given away by the fact that their eyes were missing the glowing ring around the pupil. “We can figure out what's what when we're safely back at the cabin. Everything always comes with instructions anyway, doesn't it? I seriously doubt the Souls will have changed that.”

“Right…”

It took them almost three hours to reach the outskirts of the city they had chosen to raid, the first city any of them had gone anywhere near since they'd fled Chicago. _Soul_ activity increased the closer they got to their target and Mickey wasn't the only one fighting to remain calm, his knuckles painfully white as he gripped his rifle as tightly as he could with his increasingly sweaty hands. Lip, usually an uncontrollable chatterbox, was oddly silent whilst Tony, usually the strong and silent type, couldn't seem to stop talking to himself.

“…there it is…”

As they had agreed before setting off Iggy pulled his car into a controlled skid, coming to a sharp halt just past the front door of the clinic just as Tony pulled their own car to a halt just in front of the door, creating a temporary barricade with their cars. People who had been gathered on the street scattered, crying out in fear as the six of them emerged from the vehicles with their rifles held firmly in their hands, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.

“Joey!” Terry barked out, taking charge of the situation. “Stay out here. Watch our six.”

Not waiting for a verbal response from the young man in question the eldest Milkovich kicked in the door of the clinic, firing off a burst into the ceiling as he barked for everyone inside to hit the floor. By the time Mickey followed him inside all of the _Souls_ were lying face down on the ground, hands covering their heads as they trembled with fear. These weren't _Seekers_ , he deduced quickly as Joey took up his position in the open plan foyer, firing off random bursts into the walls and ceilings to keep the Souls on the floor. These were just your average _Souls_ who had chosen the wrong day to visit the clinic as well as a couple of doctors/nurses who were dressed in scrubs just like their human counterparts used to be.

Reaching down Terry grabbed one of the nurses by her hair, dragging her up to her feet as she cried out in fear, pressing the barrel of his rifle into her side hard enough to bruise. Tony visibly stiffened, his cop instincts attempting to kick in, but he managed to control himself.

“If you value your life you'll take us to your store room,” Terry growled in her ear. “Now.”

Whimpering pathetically she gestured towards a door at the back of the foyer, yelping when Terry pushed her towards it with the others following close behind, fingers curled around the triggers of their rifles. Mickey separated himself from the group when he noticed a corridor, obviously leading to the treatment rooms, and took up a position to make sure that no one tried to sneak up on them from that direction. A jingling of keys pre-empt end the store room door finally swinging open, Terry’s hostage once again yelping in fear as she was thrown inside. Lip took up a position at the door as Terry and Tony entered the room.

It was obvious from the sounds inside the storage room that they were literally emptying entire shelves into the bags which Tony and Terry had been wearing on their backs and, without prompting, Mickey shrugged off his own and tossed it across to Lip who passed it to one of them inside the room along with his own bag. Another burst of gunfire came from outside and a quick glance confirmed that Iggy was firing into the air to scare people off.

“No!” a distinctly feminine voice cried out from inside the storage room. “Those are…”

A single gunshot silenced their hostage although.

_“Shit…”_

Lip moved aside just in time to avoid the nurse who came flying out of the room, obviously propelled by someone else, bent over with her hands pressing against her side where a growing bloodstain was rapidly altering the colour of her scrubs. Stumbling across to the nearest wall she whimpered, falling to her knees as tears began flooding down her cheeks.

She looked painfully vulnerable…

“Oi!” he snapped down at one of the _Souls_ on the floor near him, also dressed in scrubs. The young man looked up at him, the glowing rings around his pupils causing Mickey to grimace. “Go over there and help her. No funny business, though, or you'll get a bullet of your own.”

“Mickey?” Lip called out with a frown, his gun following the male _Soul_ as he crawled across the floor as quickly, examining her wound quickly before replacing her hands with one of his own. With his other hand he tore a strip off of his scrubs to use as a dressing. “What are y–”

“She's no _Seeker_ ,” he responded sharply. “She's not a threat to us. They think we're all apes, right? Uncontrollably violent? Not worthy of our freedom? Let's not prove them right…”

“…you've been spending _far_ too much time with Tony…”

Mickey snorted, nodding his head in agreement.

“Doesn't mean I'm not right, though, does it?”

Turning his attention back to the empty corridor stretching out before him he frowned to himself as he heard a distinct thud followed by what sounded like a muffled gasp. Stepping slowly, making sure to place his feet down as quietly as he could, he advanced along the corridor, bringing the rifle up so that the butt was pressed into his shoulder as it should be when being fire. Looking down the rifle sights he aimed it towards where he now realised the corridor took a sharp, blind turn to the right, which set alarm bells ringing in his head.

Pressing his back against the wall just like he'd seen all those action heroes do in their movies he paused for a moment, steadying himself before leaning around the corner.

_Seekers._

A _lot_ of _Seekers._

“…fuck…” he gasped, eyes going wide as they stared back at him for a long moment, as shocked to see him as he was to see them. They didn't appear to have any weapons, not in the traditional sense, but he knew that wouldn't stop them. “ _Seekers_! Get out of here!”

He'd never admit it but his first shot went wide, a line of bullets appearing on the wall beside one of the _Seekers_ , but he'd never practised firing an assault rifle whilst moving backwards and it definitely wasn't as easy as they made it appear in the movies. His mind registered the fact that he could hear his father and Tony frantically grabbing the last of the supplies, slinging a single strap of each bag over one of their shoulders so that they both carried two, but he was too focused on trying to stop the dozen or so _Seekers_ reaching them. They might not have been armed but this group were very good at dodging bullets.

“Go! Go! Go!”

A second rifle opened fire, Lip, which gave Mickey the opportunity to catch up with the others as they hurried across the foyer towards the exit. He was still last however, firing blindly behind him as he ran, and emerged just in time to see the unmistakable flash of silver that was a _Seekers_ vehicle turn the corner onto the road ahead of their two vehicles.

“Shit!”

Iggy was already in the first vehicle, engine roaring to life, and Joey literally threw himself into the backseat just as Tony slipped behind the wheel of the second vehicle. Firing one last burst back towards the _Seekers_ who had taken shelter behind the reception desk Mickey pulled the door shut behind them, holding it in place as Lip used his rifle to lock the handle in place. Nodding towards the Gallagher he heard the second vehicles engine roar to life, prompting both of them to turn and hurry towards the open passenger doors just as a Terry slammed his own car door shut, allowing Iggy to gun it. Tyres squeezing he performed a dramatic handbrake turn as soon as he could so as to avoid the rapidly approaching vehicle. 

_Shit…_

There was no way that Tony, no matter what sort of training he'd received as a cop, would be able to pull off such a quick turn in time to get away from the _Seekers_ vehicle, if they were lucky they wouldn't strike each other but that would still leave them in a chase…

Unless…

“Go!” Mickey ordered, slamming his door shut without getting into the car. Inside the car Tony protested vehemently although Lip said nothing, focused as he was on getting into the back seat as quickly as possible. “I'm going to cover you! _Go_! I'll find my own way back...”

Ignoring his friends continued protests he began walking towards the vehicle racing towards him, ejecting the nearly empty magazine from his rifle with practised ease before retrieving a fresh one from where he'd tucked them into the back of his jeans, clipping it into place. Gritting his teeth he forced himself to stand perfectly still in the middle of the road despite his instinct telling him that it was the worst possible place to stand in such a dangerous situation and opened fire, aiming for the windshield and the driver concealed behind it.

Had it been a normal windshield it would have shattered upon the first bullet strike but as it was it merely bent and bubbled, clueing him into the fact that it was some sort of bulletproof glass and warning him that his job just got a whole lot more difficult. As such he altered his aim ever so slightly, still firing at the windshield but also aiming for the engine.

Tony slammed the car into reverse, driving backwards at a rather alarming speed until finally Mickey heard him execute a handbrake turn, probably one that slightly less dramatic than his brothers had been, so as to get them facing the right way. Then they were gone.

He was alone.

Eventually the _Seekers_ vehicle swerved unexpectedly, spinning wildly and colliding with a lamppost with enough force to cause the gleaming body of the car to fold around the pole.

An eerie silence fell, broken only by the noises emanating from the vehicles ruined engine.

He'd done it.

They'd gotten away with the medicine so hopefully they'd be able to save Liam.

Now he just had figure out a way to save himself…

Ejecting his second magazine which was also nearly empty, stopping the car having taken a lot more than he would have liked, he had just replaced it with the second and final spare magazine he had on his person when the door to the clinic gave way and four _Seekers_ spilled out onto the pavement. Firing towards them automatically he didn't stick around to see if his aim had been true, turning and sprinting towards a nearby alleyway as fast as he could.

Feet pounding on the concrete he followed the alleyway until it spewed him out into a backroad at which point he glanced over his shoulder, grunting in annoyance when he saw a group of _Seekers_ had managed to follow him. Firing wildly down the alleyway for less than a second he hurried across to a low wall, scaling it with practised ease and dropping down into someone back garden. Unfortunately it wasn't empty, a young woman and her small child letting out almost identical cries of fear to alert the _Seekers_ to his location.

Rolling his eyes towards the hysterical young woman Mickey entered her house by the back door, making his way through the open plane kitchen, dining room and living room until he reached the front door. A quick check out the window warned him that a _Seeker_ was waiting for him, armed with a truncheon of some sorts, so Mickey decided to fire through the window to eliminate the threat, glass shattering loudly moments before his target dropped.

Jumping out of the window, hissing sharply as a piece of glass gouged out a chunk of his arm, he took off at a run towards the next road. If he was lucky he'd be able to turn the corner before the rest of the _Seekers_ reached the front of the house…but apparently his guardian angel was taking the day off as there they were, shouting for him to stop just as he turned the corner. Unlike the other road this one wasn't deserted but a quick burst of fire up into the air sent the _Souls_ scattering, most of them disappearing inside their houses.

The way clear he pushed his legs to move even quicker than they wanted to in order to duck down another alleyway before the _Seekers_ turned the corner. No doubt one of the _Souls_ would betray him but that'd take a couple of seconds which would hopefully be enough for him to get far enough ahead of the _Seekers_ that he could find somewhere suitable to hide.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t look over his shoulder.

He just kept running, taking every turn available to him.

He went down road after road, alley after alley, until he was in a completely different area of the cities. There weren’t any houses anymore; just tall buildings, a mixture of apartment blocks and offices.

After a good half-an-hour with no sign that the _Seekers_ were still following him he paused outside an elementary school. All of the windows were dark but when he jogged up to the main entrance he found the door unlocked.

Perfect.

Slipping inside he ducked into the first classroom he came to, the tiny furniture, the _interesting_ artwork, and the brightly coloured walls and floors identifying it as the kindergarten classroom. Hurrying across to the windows he pulled the blinds down, plunging the room into darkness and sealing out the outside world leaving him safe to relax, recover and plan his next move.

Knowing that attempting to use one of the chairs would be completely pointless he lowered himself down onto one of the child-sized tables, placing his rifle beside him so that he could stretched out his tense fingers. They ached from having gripped the weapon so tightly for such a long period of time, a persistent ache that only began to let up once he’d cracked each and every one of his knuckles, both by pressing down on the individual fingers with his other hand and linking them together to stretch out both hands.

He’d wait until nightfall, use the cover of darkness to sneak out of the city, steal a car when he reached the outskirts but he’d have to make sure to ditch it far enough away from the cabin that they wouldn’t come across their safe haven during their search. A couple of days on foot wouldn’t hurt if he stole some supplies at the same time as getting his hands on a vehicle…

“Oh…”

Snatching up his rifle he had it cocked and aimed at the figure in the doorway of the classroom in less than a second, prompting the _Soul_ to gasp softly, stumbling back a step as he brought his trembling hands up.

“…please…there’s no need for violence…”

No.

_No._

It couldn’t be.

It _couldn’t_ be.

But…

That voice…

That slightly gravelly voice with its distinct South Side accent…

There was only one person it _could_ be…

“…Ian…”

~ * ~


	6. Chapter Five

**Title:** For Him

 **Author:** Marblez

 **Fandom/Genre:** Shameless USA

 **Relationship(s):** Mickey Milkovich/Ian Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher/Tony Markovich

 **Content Rating:** R

 **Warnings:** Slash, Het, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Homophobia, Racism, Past Child-Abuse, Minor Character Death, Teen/Underage Pregnancy, Abortion _(referenced)_  

 **Summary:** The world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.

 **A/N:** Whilst I am trained in ‘First Aid’ I am neither a doctor or nurse so please excuse any medical inaccuracies which might arise throughout this story. I’m also British and sadly have never travelled to America so there’s probably going to be some cultural mistakes as well. Sorry. X

 

**~ FOR HIM ~**

**~ Chapter Five ~**

_As far as_ Souls _went he was young having only spent one lifetime on the_ Fire World _before crossing the galaxy to aid in the colonisation of_ Earth _. He had been born on the_ Fire World _where the violent ecosystem made their peaceful existence a constant challenge. It wasn't like the violence they had encountered on_ Earth _; the_ Fire-Tasters _who inhabited the_ Fire World _had only one source of nutrients, the_ Walking Flowers _, and had been burning this “lesser species” alive for thousands of years._

 _Unlike some of the other planets where_ Souls _were content to settle, to live thousands of lifetimes inside thousands of_ Hosts _very few_ Souls _chose to settle on the_ Fire World _and he doubted that this would change until they succeeded in finding an alternative food source for the_ Fire-Tasters _. It was, therefore, not uncommon for_ Souls _to behave as he had done and travel to a new world after only one lifetime on the_ Fire World _however most would not take on the challenges that came with colonising a new world; most chose to visit the_ Planet of the Flowers _or the_ Singing World.

 _He had taken the name Burns Living Flowers whilst living as a_ Fire-Eater _but now that he had begun his second life on_ Earth _he had taken to referring to himself merely as Burns. Perhaps in time he would find a new name which suited his life as a teacher of young ones better._

 _Before travelling to_ Earth _he had had very little contact with young ones, or children as the species they now inhabited called them, as the_ Fire-Eaters _kept their young completely hidden until they were old enough to fend for themselves. This process could take anything from one solar month to a lunar year yet this was nothing compared to how long it took_ Human _, as the occupants of_ Earth _referred to themselves, young ones to completely mature._

 _They were born utterly vulnerable, unable to care for themselves in any way and therefore reliant on those that gave birth to them. Whilst some things were learnt instinctively most had to be taught to the young ones, first by demonstration and repetition and then later by explaining things in great detail. This, he had learned, was called an “education” and it was upon learning of this that he was finally able to discover his Calling. Those who ensured that the young ones received all of the information they needed to survive were called “teachers” and so, once he had adjusted to his new body, he applied to become one. Upon completion of his extensive yet relatively brief training he was given his first assignment as a “teacher” and had begun to educate the young ones, each of whom had a newborn_ Soul _implanted into them in the ways of both_ Souls _and the various species they inhabited in the galaxy._

 _Settling easily into a comfortable routine he had made friends with the_ Souls _who lived and worked alongside him, had discovered the joy in a young ones innocent curiosity and unrestrained joy, often leading to fits of giggles inside his classroom which he was always hard pressed to remain immune to. He liked to stay late to plan the next day's lesson, to lay out the equipment they would need and organise the textbooks and information, before going through his marking so that he would be free to simply relax once he returned home._

_It was as he was marking the penultimate workbook when he heard a door open and close somewhere in the empty building, followed by heavy footsteps. There was also an unfamiliar sounding rattling metal, like something small was shifting about inside something else._

_Out of nowhere the sound triggered a memory, one from his_ Host _who he had only experienced brief flashes from previously; it was the sound an automatic rifle made when it was moved around, the various components inside it shifting as gravity and momentum affected them._

_An automatic rifle was a…was a weapon..._

_What…what was someone doing with a…with a weapon in a school?_

_Setting the red pen which he used only for marking purposes aside, his hand trembling uncontrollably, he rose to his feet and made his way out of his classroom, his hands automatically reaching down to pull at the bottom of his dark grey suit jacket to eliminate any bunching or creases which had appeared whilst he was sitting. He had never had cause to worry about his appearance on the_ Fire Planet _, everyone dressed the same, yet here on_ Earth _everyone was considered an individual. As such he'd been able to experiment a little bit with his wardrobe before settling on a mixture of denim jeans and polo shirts for when he was at home and smart suits with something called a “skinny leg effect” for when he was at work. He favoured cool tones such as grey, blue and green over warm tones, mostly due to the fact that colour such as red, orange and yellow reminded him of his previous planet._

 _It was somewhat ironic, or at least he thought so, that his_ Host _had flaming red hair._

_Making his way down the main staircase as quickly as he could he found himself in the main foyer of the school and noticed immediately that the door to River Under A Tall Tree’s kindergarten classroom was open when he knew that she liked to keep it shut overnight._

_Whoever had brought a projectile weapon into his school had gone into her classroom…_

_He knew, logically, that he should exit the building now and call for help. If there was an innocent explanation then it would be easy to sort out and would result in nothing more than a temporary state of embarrassment for him. If there wasn't an innocent explanation, however, if someone really had brought a gun into the building, then he would need help…_

_And yet even though he knew what he should do his feet carried him over to the open door and once there he found himself gazing at a young man dressed in multiple layers of dark clothing, some of which appeared to be in a rather sorry state of disrepair, sitting on one of the desks in the centre of the room. His hair was so dark it blended into the darkness of the room surrounding him but in contrast his skin was so pale it seemed to glow, as though he was reflecting the moonlight which had not yet appeared. And beside him lay the weapon._

_“...oh…”_

_Why?_

_Why had he made a sound, drawing the potentially dangerous stranger’s attention to him?_

_He flinched as the figure snatched the weapon up off of the table, pulling back on one of the moving parts before pointing it towards the centre of his chest as a pair of piercing blue eyes glared across at him with such intensity that he couldn't help but gasp softly. Something, an instinct ingrained into his_ Hosts _body rather than his_ Soul _, prompted him to take an uncertain step backwards whilst bringing his hands up level with his head, empty palms facing towards the young man who was suddenly panting as though he'd been running._

_“…please…” Burns murmured, clearing his throat quickly when his voice came out choked and unsteady, causing the figure to jump minutely. “…there’s no need for violence…”_

_He couldn't understand why a_ Soul _would do something like this…_

 _It wasn't in their nature to be violent, that was why they didn't like the_ Fire Planet _, why they were determined to help bring peace and prosperity to the inhabitants of this planet…_

_Why would one of them…_

_“…Ian…”_

_His thoughts, which had been becoming rapidly more frantic, were interrupted by the soft exclamation, drawing his attention back to the figure who now wore an expression of horror._

_“No. My name is Burns-Living-Flowers,” he corrected the young man softly, wondering if this had all been caused by a case of mistaken identity. Just in case, however, he kept his arms up in as non-threatening manner he could manage. “Although I prefer to go by just Burns now.”_

_He frowned as the figure let out a sharp whimper._

_His answer had upset them somehow and it was then, as he met the piercing blue eyes, that he noticed the fact that they were missing the distinct ring which symbolised the presence of a_ Soul _within the_ Host _body, something common to every single planet that they lived on._

_“You…you're not a Soul…”_

_Burns had never met anyone, not a_ Fire-Taster _or a_ Human _, who wasn't carrying a_ Soul _. It was…it wasn't something he'd even considered…and it meant that he was currently having a projectile weapon pointed towards him by one of the “resistant_ Humans _” he'd heard about._

_“…fuck…fuck… **fuck** …” _

_He flinched, ducking his head as the_ Human’s _voice rose sharply, his heart pounding painfully inside his chest. It didn’t help his nerves when the figure holding him at gunpoint surged to his feet, crossing the room in a couple of paces until they were only a metre or so apart leaving the muzzle of the gun only a couple of inches away from his chest._

_It was the most terrifying situation he’d ever been in…_

_“…does…” the_ Human _cut himself off, breathing deeply as he appeared to struggle to keep his emotions under control. His hands and the rifle they held stayed perfectly still even as his body shuddered and shook, one of his knees flexing seemingly of its own accord. “…does anything of the_ Host _survive?”_

_“No.”_

_His answer, short, simple and to the point, brought tears to the young man’s eyes which were quickly wiped away on the fabric covering his upper arm._

_“…fuck…Ian…”_

_Burns frowned._

_Ian._

_That was the name that the_ Human _had addressed him by…_

 _…could it be…could it be that this_ Human _knew his_ Host _?_

_A memory, not his own, flared to life before his eyes…_

_~ * ~_

_He had to get it back._

_What it was that he had to get back he didn’t know but it was imperative that he get it back so, picking up a tire iron from the floor, he crept into the house._

_It was disgusting._

_There were beer bottles on every surface, take-out boxes filled with rotten food, weapons of various size and shapes scattered around and stains._

_Lots of stains._

_He knew this house but at the same time he didn’t…_

_Making his way through to one of the back rooms on the ground floor he paused briefly, studying the sign on the closed door which read ‘STAY THE FUCK OUT’ before finally turning the handle and slipping inside the room._

_It was a bedroom, the walls a ghastly orange colour and covered in obscene posters of naked women or what he guessed her album covers for rock bands. Just like the rest of the house it was littered with mess only with more dirty clothes than anything else, thrown haphazardly around the room, but his gaze was drawn immediately to the bed, specifically to the body lying face down on the bed._

_It was him._

_The one he was seeking…_

_The one who was threatening him…_

_He leaned forwards, jabbing the end of the tire iron between the figures shoulder blades in order to wake him up._

_“…what the fuck…?”_

_“I want the gun back, Mickey.”_

_Yes, that was his voice, or rather his_ Hosts _voice._

_It sounded different, though; younger._

_Mickey. That must be the renegade_ Humans _name._

_In the memory he rolled over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and it was immediately obvious that this was an old memory, the pale boy looking at least two, maybe three years younger than he did now._

_Wait…gun?_

_“Gallagher?”_

_Ian Gallagher._

_Was that…was that the name of his_ Host _?_

**_Yes._ **

_What?_

_“The gun!”_

_“…all right…”_

_What had that voice been?_

_That hadn’t been part of the memory…_

_He was just as surprised as his_ Host _was in the memory when Mickey, who had been reaching for his bedside cabinet, turned and slammed his fist into the side of his head with enough force to make his vision white out briefly. He came back to himself just in time to grab hold of Mickey’s wrists when the shorter but evidently stronger teen grabbed him by his jacket and threw him across the room and into the wall, striking it with a painful thud before falling down onto the bed Mickey had been lying on only a couple of seconds earlier._

**_This is when we met._ **

_Where was that voice coming from?_

**_Properly, I mean. I knew him before but I didn’t really know him._ **

_This…this didn’t make any sense…_

**_This is when I found out the truth about Mickey Milkovich._ **

_In the memory they fought for dominance, for control of the situation. Bodies were slammed into walls, into shelves. The tire iron swapped between them as it was forcefully removed first from his own grip, then Mickey’s and then, when he eventually ended up pinned to the bed with the other boy’s crotch inches from his face, from him once more as Mickey threatened him with it._

_A pause._

_Heavy breathing._

**_This is when it all started._ **

_A clang sounded as the tire iron was dropped to the ground and then suddenly they were caught up in a new flurry of movement, not fighting this time. No; this time they were ripping each others clothes off in their eagerness to bring their youthful bodies together as one._

_In a matter of seconds and with an alarming lack of presentation he found himself buried inside of the older boy, Mickey straddling his hips and riding him like there was nothing else left in the world._

_It was the most incredible thing he had ever experienced…_

_~ * ~_

_“You got a car?”_

_Mickey’s voice, sharper than it had been in the memory he'd just witnessed, dragged him back to the present and he found himself more than a little bit confused, his dick responding to the events of the past even as he gazed down the barrel of a potentially deadly weapon._

_He'd heard about other_ Souls _witnessing their_ Hosts _memories in vivid detail but he'd only experienced a few flashes here and there before now; a young woman's motherly smile, a little boy with dark skin blinking trustingly up at him, a temporary swimming pool in front of a tired looking house. This last one had been the only one which had had any physical effect on him before and that had been a feeling of longing burning in his chest, nothing like the arousal running through his veins like electricity._

_And where had that other voice come from?_

_It hadn't been part of the memory, that he was certain of._

_In fact it had…it had almost sounded like his own voice…but that didn't make any sense…_

_He didn't knowing what to do…_

_“Oi!”_

_Jumping he blinked across at the handsome young man, trying desperately not to recall how he had looked naked and writhing on top of him, pale skin stretched over tight muscles..._

_“…I-I'm sorry…” he apologised automatically, his cheeks burning. “What did you say?”_

_Mickey huffed, rolling his eyes in a painfully familiar way before repeating slowly,_

_“You. Got. A. Car?”_

_“Oh…” he mumbled, his hand patting his pockets quickly. “Um…yes, I do. But my keys are…the keys are upstairs in my classroom. You’re welcome to take it if you have need of it.”_

_Mickey paused, his eyes shuttering as he obviously thought things through._

_“Ok, this is what’s going to happen,” he eventually muttered, squaring his shoulders as he locked his eyes with Burns’s. “We’re gonna go upstairs, get your keys and then you’re gonna drive me out of the city. You try anything and I’ll put a fucking bullet in your brain, you see if I don’t. I don’t care what meat suit you’re wearing. I’ve got no problems wasting a Soul.”_

**_...that's my Mickey…_ **

_Biting his lip to hold back the whimper of fear, a cold shiver running down his spin, he ignored the voice in his head and focused on slowly leading the_ Human _upstairs to his classroom. It was…it was probably just stress, he reasoned with himself silently as he arrived at his classroom, gesturing towards where his coat was hanging by the door, just stress…_

**_Oh, yeah,_ ** **stress _…_**

_How could a disembodied voice in his mind sound so sarcastic?_

_Pulling on his coat he patted down his pockets once more, feeling his mobile phone, his wallet and his all important car keys which he produced ever so slowly for Mickey to see._

_“Ok, lead on, Ia…_ Burns _,” Mickey ordered, catching himself before he could address him by the wrong name. Something in the back of his mind shifted. “And don't trying anything.”_

_Nodding, fiddling nervously with his car keys, Burns led the way back down the main staircase and out of the building, following the exterior wall to the right until they arrived at the staff car park. His was the only car there as the janitor, who would be locking up in an hour or so, only lived around the corner and preferred to walk to and the school building._

_Pushing the button on the key fob to unlock the doors he slipped in behind the wheel, flinching as Mickey climbed into the passenger’s seat so quickly that he ended up jabbing the muzzle of the rifle into the_ Souls _side, only removing it once both of them had shut their doors and even then he only adjusted the rifle so that it was no longer pressing against him._

_It was still aimed at his chest, low enough not to be seen from outside the vehicle, and it got in the way when he moved to release the handbrake after starting up the engine. He said nothing, however, just angled his arm at a somewhat unnatural angle to get the job done._

_“Where am I heading?” he enquired softly as he reversed out of his parking space and manoeuvred the car out of the somewhat narrow exit of the car park. “North? South?”_

_“South.”_

_Ok._

_As he made his way out of the city he was very much aware of the increased_ Seeker _presence and there was no doubt in his mind that it had something to do with Mickey. Obeying each and every traffic law, just as he always did, he was surprised by the feeling of relief spreading through his veins as they made it past the_ Seekers _without question or complaint._

_Why hadn't he tried to get help?_

_Mickey wouldn't…he wouldn't really have shot him, would he?_

**_Oh, yes, he would._ **

_But then he'd have been caught…_

_And why am I arguing with a voice in my head?_

**_Because I'm not a voice in your head._ **

_Burns frowned._

_Yes, he thought slowly and clearly, you are._

**_No, I'm not. I'm not just some voice in your head._ **

_Brought about by stress._

_A breakdown, that's it, he thought to himself, I'm having a nervous breakdown._

**_You're not having a nervous breakdown._ **

_Burns scoffed softly, causing Mickey to frown at him before his attention was drawn by a large group of_ Seekers _who were in the process of setting up a road block. Automatically, distracted by his internal argument, Burns lifted his hand off of the wheel to offer them a wave._

_“I will shoot you if you so much as…”_

_Mickey cut himself off when the_ Seeker _Burns had waved towards smiled and nodded back set him, waving them on through before returning to his previous task._

_“Huh.”_

**_Huh._ **

_He was_ definitely _having a nervous breakdown…_

**_Seriously, you’re not having a nervous breakdown!_ **

_I'm arguing with a voice that only I can hear, Burns thought sharply, turning onto the main road south, if that's not the definition of a nervous breakdown then I don't know what is._

_“How far do you need me to drive you?” he enquired softly, glancing nervously towards Mickey who was relaxing minutely with every metre they put between them and the city centre. “Only I've got just above half a tank of fuel so I might have to fill up if you need to…”_

_“Half a tank will get us where we're going.”_

_Us, Burns noticed, not ‘me’ which meant Mickey was planning on taking him…somewhere._

**_Obviously._ **

_Ok, seriously, if you’re not a symptom of my completely understandable nervous breakdown then what are you?_

_A pause._

**_I'm Ian. Ian Gallagher._ **

_His_ Host _._

_The voice he was hearing was his Host?_

_That was…that was impossible…_

**_Evidently not because here I am._ **

_But you can't be, Burns thought firmly, nothing of the_ Host _survives._

**_I'm not nothing and do you know what? I'd really like my body back now._ **

_Shit._

_~ * ~_


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't done this yet because I don't normally like doing it but it was the only way to get this chapter to work and I'm sure you're wondering what it is I'm talking about – throughout this chapter the POV will swap between Mickey and Burns with a bit of Ian thrown in for good measure. Also this chapter contains (and by "contains" I mean roughly 80%) boy+boy sexy times…which turned out to be slightly more graphic than I had originally planned...although it's not too graphic if that makes sense...you have been warned...

**Title:** For Him

 **Author:** Marblez

 **Fandom/Genre:** Shameless USA

 **Relationship(s):** Mickey Milkovich/Ian Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher/Tony Markovich

 **Content Rating:** R

 **Warnings:** Slash, Het, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Homophobia, Racism, Past Child-Abuse, Minor Character Death, Teen/Underage Pregnancy, Abortion _(referenced)_  

 **Summary:** The world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.

 **A/N:** Whilst I am trained in ‘First Aid’ I am neither a doctor or nurse so please excuse any medical inaccuracies which might arise throughout this story. I’m also British and sadly have never travelled to America so there’s probably going to be some cultural mistakes as well. Sorry. X

  **~ FOR HIM ~**

**~ Chapter Six ~**

Holding himself perfectly still Mickey relished the feeling of the callused fingers stroking over the skin of his stubbled cheek, a shiver of anticipation coursing through his veins as Ian’s thumb moved down to smooth over his lips. He was unable to stop himself from parting his lips ever so slightly, accepting just the tip of the familiar digit inside his mouth for only the briefest of moments before pressing an over-exaggerated kiss to the digit.

Ian sucked in a sharp breath and it was that simple, familiar sound that proved to be Mickey’s undoing; his eyes flying open as he all but launched himself across into the other boys lap so as to press his lips to the redheads.

He didn’t even notice that the handbrake was digging painfully into his thigh, the pressure more than enough to leave a bruise behind on his skin.

All that mattered was Ian.

His hands moved to cradle the back of Ian’s head as he slipped his tongue into the redhead’s mouth, initiating a duel of sorts between their flexible muscles whilst threading his fingers through the short red strands of hair.

In response Ian let out a deep moan against his lips, grinding his hips and the hardness between his legs up towards them as his own hands grasped hold of Mickey’s hair, pulling on the inky black strands a little too firmly.

Just how Mickey secretly liked it…

“Mick…” Ian breathed against his lips as they both pulled back, no more than a couple of millimetres, in order to suck in some much needed air. “I…”

“I know…” he groaned softly, dropping his right hand down between their bodies, pressing his palm against the hard bulge in Ian’s trousers. “Fuck…”

Ian gasped loudly, pushing up against his hand as he pressed his head back against the uncomfortable headrest which sat atop the uncomfortable seat.

“I need you…”

Groaning softly at the desperate tone of voice the other boy was using Mickey quickly brought his other hand down, undoing the redheads belt buckle with quick, practised movements before pulling open his trousers.

A damp patch was growing rapidly on the fabric of Ian’s cotton underpants and Mickey found his mouth watering at the sight. Before he had started fooling around with Ian he had never been a big fan of giving head, finding the act a little bit degrading and leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. With Ian, however, he had grown to love the intimate act almost as much as he loved being on the receiving end.

Sure, he could give as good as he got in every sense of the phrase but in regards to sex he preferred to be the one getting pounded into the mattress.

“Mickey…” Ian gasped, legs flailing uncontrollably as Mickey pulled the redheads erection free of the layers of clothing. “Oh…please…I can’t…I…”

He ignored the fact that that last bit hadn’t sounded entirely like Ian…

Bringing his hand up to his mouth he worked up a decent amount of saliva which he proceeded to spread over his palm with his tongue, making sure to get a decent coverage before returning his hand to Ian’s straining erection.

Ian whimpered, pulling sharply at Mickey’s hair as the slick hand closed around his erection and began to pump up and down, gently at first but rapidly increasing in speed and pressure, adding a twist in here and there.

“…that feel good?”

His leg, the one with the handbrake digging into it, was starting to go numb but he ignored it, focusing his attention on the young man he had given up hope of ever seeing again particularly after he’d found himself playing ­ _Host_ to a _Soul_. There was no telling how long Ian would be able to keep control.

“…uh…uh-huh…”

Mickey couldn’t help but smirk.

“I bet I know something that’ll feel even better.”

~ * ~

_He didn’t…he didn’t know what was happening…_

_The control he had had over this body was like a distant memory, caused not only by the resurgence of his_ Host _but by the way Mickey was touching him. He might not have control but he could still feel everything; every single press of his lips, every touch, every sensation…_

 _It was obvious that Mickey had done this before, his skilled hands playing his body like a musical instrument, drawing uncontrollable gasps and moans from between his lips and he was touched more intimately than he had ever imagine possible. There was nothing that the_ Fire-Eaters _did in their culture that could be compared to this, their offspring coming from eggs which were laid by the females and buried in scorched earth fertilised by the males and therefore requiring no “intimate contact” between those wishing to reproduce. Therefore h had no frame of reference for him to turn to other than the memories of his_ Host _which were flashing up almost every time he closed his eyes, images of countless moments his_ Host _and the_ Human _had spent together in the eighteen months prior to their arrival on the planet._

 _Mickey shifted his body away from his suddenly, returning to his own seat although one of his hands never faltered in its task between Burns' spread legs, the_ Human _manoeuvring himself up onto his knees before leaning down to wrap his plump lips around the head of…_

_“Ugh!”_

_As more and more of his aching member was welcomed into the warm, moist cavern of Mickey's mouth he found himself pulling almost viciously at the_ Humans _dark hair, accidentally managing to pull out a few of the strands in his blind moment if passion. No amount of his_ Hosts _hastily shared memories could have prepared him for this, for how it would feel to be swallowed down and…his mind went blank for a long moment as Mickey began using his tongue in almost as skilled a manner as he used his hands, massaging the heavy organ within his mouth before pulling back to press his tongue against the leaking slit._

_“…oh…” he panted uncontrollably, his cheeks flushing. “…fuck…”_

**_He's magnificent, isn't he?_ **

_Yes…_

_Mickey's hand was still pumping mercilessly at the back of his cock, massaging the spit slicked length in time with the moments of his mouth and tongue. The noises escaping the_ Human _were, for lack of a better word, obscene which only served to make him even harder._

**_He used to hate going down on people, you know?_ **

_A memory of Mickey reluctantly agreeing to go down on his knees flashed before his eyes, glaring up at him throughout the act until finally he'd begun to get into it. Ian had praised him softly, tugging on his hair. A second memory followed, this one showing him to be significantly more at ease as he forced Ian down onto the bed in his messy bedroom, pinning him in place when he tried to take charge and slurping his way down onto Ian's hard cock._

**_But look at him now; practically gagging for it and hard as a fucking rock._ **

_This is…_

**_For me._ **

**_This is_ ** **all _for me._**

 _What little control he had had over his actions fizzled away and he could do nothing but watch, listen and feel as his hands released their hold of Mickey's hair in favour of pulling at his jacket, encouraging him to remove it. The_ Human _made quick work of unzipping it, using the hand he had been bracing himself with, and soon the jacket was being dropped into the passenger foot well. Not once during this manoeuvre did he let up with his other hand although he did lose some of its calculated rhythm as he struggled to remain balanced._

_The suction now being provided by his mouth, combined with the tight circle created by his lips and the massage of his flexible tongue, never wavered much to Burns’ amazement…_

_Idly, as Mickey returned his full attention to his task, he noticed that the windows were starting to get fogged up and for some unknown reason it brought to mind a memory of Ian's of a man and a woman having sex in an old fashioned car, her hand smudging through the condensation covering the back window at her moment of climax. What…who was that?_

**_Jack and Rose,_** _his_ Host _chuckled deeply. **From Titanic.**_

_What?_

**_It's a film, they're characters and that's a pretty famous scene, if for being rather cliché._ **

_Oh…_

_After a particularly loud slurp he felt himself clear his throat, one of his hand moving up to pet the soft, black hair on the back of Mickey's head in a manner that was clearly intended to calm down rather than excite. In response the_ Human _paused, holding himself in place._

_It was so strange; being aware of everything but having absolutely no control over it._

**_Now you know how I feel…_ **

_“I want to see you, Mick,” his voice purred with words and intent not his own. “Clothes. Off.”_

_His_ Host _was firmly in control for the moment._

~ * ~

He did _not_ need telling twice.

Releasing Ian's cock with an obscene slurping sound Mickey sat upright in the passenger seat and began the awkward task of stripping off his clothes. His top half was easy enough; underneath his jacket he'd been wearing a long sleeved navy blue pullover, a vest which had been white once upon a time but was now a sad looking light grey that also had a collection of age related holes in it and a dark grey scarf. These were removed without hesitation revealing his milky white skin to Ian's lustful gaze, only the skin of his lower arms, face and neck holding the tiniest bit of colour after being exposed to the sun during the summer.

He had never had much in the way of chest hair, something all of the Milkovich brothers shared, although he did have just enough hair below his belly button to form something of a “happy trail” as Ian had always referred to it, leading down to his dark next of pubic hair. Unlike Ian who had been more than happy to remove any and all unwanted hair from his body leaving his chest and stomach, incredibly sculpted as it was thanks to all of the working out he liked to do, completely smooth and his pubic hair present but tightly controlled Mickey had always been a firm believer of simply letting it grow how it wanted to grow.

His bottom half proved to more challenging and, therefore, significantly more frustrating.

Firstly the laces of his boots refused to come undone without a serious amount of cursing and tugging at the knots with his fingernails although this was possibly due to the fact that his attention was split between the task at hand and where Ian had taken himself in hand.

That was…that was _very_ distracting…

After finally managing to remove his boots his socks were pulled off next for no reason other than it would be easier to strip off his jeans without them getting in the way. Speaking on his jeans his belt buckle proved to be more annoying than usual but finally gave way and he was able to lips his hips up just enough to pull down the thick fabric, revealing the black boxer briefs he wore underneath. Ian sucked in a sharp breath, gaze fixated on the place where the fabric was tented thanks to his own more than a little bit excited manhood.

“Mick…” Ian mumbled and, yep, that was _definitely_ Ian, his tone of voice achingly familiar. He wondered, distractedly, if their current situation had something to do with the redhead managing to seize control of his body back, whether their _connection_ had overwhelmed the Soul currently living inside his boyfriend…not that he'd ever referred to Ian as his boyfriend out loud, especially not when the redhead was present. “Boxers. Off. Now. Need you. _Now_.”

“… _fuck_ …”

~ * ~

 _Burns had only ever seen one human reproductive organ. His_ Hosts _and even then he hadn't exactly studied it. It was a tool to be used, part of the body he had been given, so suddenly being confronted with another was almost as overwhelming as the multitude of feelings coursing through his senses, especially as he had also never seen one so…_ excited _…before._

**Excited _? Seriously?_**

_He felt himself blush at the derision he heard in his_ Hosts _voice._

_It's alright for you, he thought angrily. You grew up with this sort of thing. I…I haven't._

**_…you do know what sex is don't you?_ **

_I'm not_ that _naïve thank you very much!_

**_Just checking because we're about to have it…_ **

_He couldn't stop himself from gulping, if only mentally as Ian retained control of his body, as his mind helpfully re-supplied some of the images he'd seen only minutes earlier as though he needed another reminder about what his Host was planning to do with the_ Human _._

 **_You know, I really wish you'd stop referring to him as ‘_ ** **The Human _’ even if it is only in your head. His name is Mickey. You've known that for hours so there's no excuse not to use it._**

 _I apologise, he thought sincerely. I didn't realise that you could hear all of my thoughts rather than just the ones directed towards you. I shall endeavour to correct myself although I did not mean it as an insult, merely a statement of fact. His is a_ Human _, after all. It's no different than referring to my previous_ Host _as a_ Fire-Eater _for that is what she was._

**_…she?_ **

_Yes, my last_ Host _was female. I found her to be quite remarkable._

**_…are you female?_ **

_I am neither. I am a_ Soul _. I take on the gender and social norms of my_ Host _although the…although I had no idea that such behaviour as this was…possible or…encouraged…_

**_In some places it's not, or it wasn't but most people don't judge too much anymore._ **

_“Ian…” Mickey's soft yet noticeably desperate voice drew his attention away from his Host and across to where the completely naked body was now displayed. “…fucking missed you…”_

_His_ Host _chuckled fondly, reaching out to ruffle Mickey's hair as he muttered,_

_“Such a fucking sap…”_

_Burns winced at the painful thump in the arm he received in response._

_You two swear an awful lot, Burns felt the need to point out. Is that normal for_ Humans _?_

**_Not all but for people who grew up where and how we did?_ **

_A quick flash of the poverty stricken area of his_ Hosts _home city flashed before his eyes, followed equally as quickly with a couple of images of his_ Hosts _parents, a drunk and an absent “head-case” who apparently had a genuine problem but refused to be treated for it. This was then followed by an image of a man who he somehow knew was Mickey's father, knuckles scraped as he leant away from the older man he had just finished beating up._

**_Yeah, it's perfectly normal…_ **

_Yes. He supposed it was._

_“Mickey…” his_ Host _murmured softly, reaching out to stroke along the other young man's flushed cheek with the back of his fingers. “I think we should move this to the back seat…”_

~ * ~

It was funny, Mickey thought to himself as he squeezed his body between the two front seats in order to get back to the bench seat in the back, that in all the time they'd been fucking before the invasion they'd never managed to achieve the teenage cliché; backseat of a car either at a drive in movie or some deserted “make-out” spot. Honestly they probably _would_ have gotten around to it eventually had either of them ever managed to own a car…

“You should probably think about losing your own clothes pretty soon, Firecrotch, or you’re going to end up falling behind,” he muttered pointedly just as the redhead moved to follow him. Ian paused, shooting him a smirk which confirmed the continued absence of the Soul possessing his body, and then proceeded to ever so slowly remove his suit. He revealed his freckled skin inch by inch, blatantly aware of what it was doing to Mickey. “… _fuck_ _me_ …”

“Oh, I plan to…” Ian chuckled deeply once he was finally naked, squeezing his long, muscular body through the small gap to join Mickey on the back seat. “But first I just have to ask…

“…what?”

“Did you mean it?”

Mickey paused, frowning.

He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what this question was about…

“No,” he finally answered, meeting Ian’s gaze and holding it. “No, I didn’t.”

~ * ~

 _Burns had never felt joy quite like the feelings that coursed through his_ Hosts _mind following the simple statement; pure joy, filled with warmth and laced with a liberal splash of relief. Ian, still in firm control of the movements of the body they currently shared, reached out to pull Mickey into a passionate kiss._

 _His own mind was almost sluggish with confusion; what exactly was it that the_ human _hadn’t meant? And why did it matter so much to his_ Host _?_

**_It matters._ **

_But why?_

**_It just does._ **

_I don’t…_

_As his hands stroked their way down the_ humans _surprisingly smooth skin, so pale it almost glowed in the moonlight shining in through the cars windows, his mind was supplied with another memory. Mickey stood directly in front of him, Mickey of the past with his grubby clothes and cruel smirk._

_“Done is done. What, you think we're boyfriend and girlfriend here?” the memory of Mickey scoffed. “You're nothing but a warm mouth to me.”_

_Oh._

_Yes._

_Even he, a_ Soul _, could understand why such a thing would matter given their current situation and what was about to take place between the two of them._

**_Could you make it sound any more boring?_ **

_I’m sorry._

**_Because trust me, what’s about to “take place” is going to be anything but boring…_ **

_Burns was confused when, as Mickey willingly spread his legs open which allowed his own body to settle between them, their groins pressed together, his body moved of its own accord to bring his fingers up to his mouth. He sucked on two of them, coating them with a rather disgusting amount of spit._

_Ian chuckled deeply, the sound rumbling pleasantly in Burns’s chest._

_“It’s just like old times, Mickey,” his_ Host _murmured, bringing the fingers he had just been sucking on down between their bodies, bypassing their straining cocks and aiming towards... “No lube around when you need it.”_

_Wait._

_You can’t possibly mean to put your fingers–_

_“Fuck!” Mickey cried out when he was breached, his hands flying out to clutch at his_ Hosts _upper arms, his nails digging in somewhat painfully. The_ humans _eyes were clenched shut, as though he were in pain, but his mouth was stretched into such a broad smile that there was no denying the fact that he was enjoying all that was being done to him. “…oh…fuck…Ian…fuck…”_

_Burns gasped._

_He couldn’t…he couldn’t believe that this was happening…_

_~ * ~_

It hurt, there was no denying that, but given how long it had been since they were last together, since he had last allowed anyone to fuck him, that wasn’t entirely surprising. And while he probably should be more patient, should allow his body to adjust that little bit more, he was too anxious to feel Ian inside him again. He _needed_ to experience those familiar sensations again…

“Gallagher, I’m not made of fucking glass,” he growled with a playful smirk, pushing at the redheads shoulders until eventually he leaned back just enough to give Mickey the room he needed to shift onto his hands and knees. Ian let out a deep laugh, his hand moving down to palm his erection as Mickey tilted his arse up towards the redhead. “Come on. Get on with it.”

A shiver ran down his spine when he heard Ian spit into his hand, using his saliva to coat his member as best he could, before deftly lining himself up.

Mickey found himself holding his breath when he felt the pressure against his sensitive skin, his eyes fluttering closed as the pressure slowly increased until suddenly, with a sharp, all too familiar stab of pain, they were joined.

It hurt, a lot, but it was utterly glorious because concealed within the pain were layers upon layers of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The kind of intense pleasure that only one person had ever caused him to feel; Ian Gallagher.

And with that in mind Mickey allowed his head to hang, his eyes fluttering closed as a stream of moans burst from his lips, and gave himself over to it.

~ * ~

_Oh._

_Oh!_

_He couldn’t…_

_This wasn’t…_

_The memories hadn’t warned him that…_

_It was so…_

**_Intense, huh?_ **

_Yes._

_But…_

**_What?_ **

_Is he…_

**_What?_ **

_It sounds like he’s in pain…_

_A feeling of regret burned through his mind._

**_…that’s because he is in pain._ **

_Oh._

_I don’t…_

_I don’t think you should be doing this if it’s going to hurt him…_

**_Look at you, caring about a_ ** **Human.**

_Burns frowned._

_Of_ course _I care…_

**_A little pain is normal, unfortunately, and I know his limits._ **

_Still…_

**_He trusts me._ **

**_That’s part of what makes this so special._ **

**_He knows that I could really hurt him if I wanted to._ **

**_He also knows that I won’t._ **

_Is there…_

**_What?_ **

_Is there a way to make it hurt less?_

**_Time._ **

_Time?_

**_Yes._ **

**_Trust me, the pleasure eventually overrides everything._ **

_Oh…_

**_Although if you’re asking for a quick fix the answer is lube._ **

_Lube?_

**_Lubrication._ **

**_You can_ ** **never _have too much lubrication where sex is concerned._**

_…but we don’t have any…_

_He blinked, catching his mistake._

_You._

_I meant…you don’t have any…_

**_No._ **

**We _don’t which is why I’m holding back quite a bit._**

_You are?_

**_Yes._ **

_A flash of an image, one of the two joined as they were now only with their movement being increadibly moreviolent, flashed behind his closed eyelids._

_He frowned._

_…why were you covered in blood?_

**_We had a fight._ **

_A fight._

**_Yes._ **

**_He punched me._ **

**_I punched him._ **

**_We fucked it out._ **

_…fucked it out…_

**_Yes._ **

_…is that healthy?_

_His_ Host chuckled, both inside his mind where the conversation was taking place and out loud where Mickey responded by arching an eyebrow at him.

**_Probably not but it works for us._ **

_Huh…_

_His_ Host _gave no verbal explanation to the_ human _glancing over his shoulder at them; instead he reached down and around in order to take him in his hand, squeezing his turgid member tightly for a moment before beginning to stroke it in time with his thrusts, increasing the pressure simultaneously._

_“Oh…” Mickey grunted, tossing his head back. “Fuck!”_

_Well, it’s safe to say he likes that…_

**_He always has._ **

**_He’s such a greedy bottom._ **

_Is that a bad thing?_

**_Not to me._ **

_You love him a lot, don’t you?_

**_I do._ **

_I’m sorry…_

_And Burns was._

_He truly, honestly, was._

~ * ~


	8. Chapter Seven

**~ Chapter Seven ~**

Mickey woke curled around a familiar body, both of them as naked as the day they were born, feeling safe and surprisingly warm and relatively comfortable and for a moment, a wonderful if painfully brief moment, it was as though the end of the world hadn't happened.

Sadly, it was all too easy to drag him back to reality of his current situation.

All that he had to do with tilt his head upwards so that he could meet the eyes of the person who held him, the distinctive ring of silver around the pupil denoting the presence of a Soul.

Had he imagined the night before?

When Ian, _his Ian_ , had come back to him?

Had spoken to him?

Had fucked...had _made love_ to him?

"...Ian?"

His body bore the evidence of what happened the night before, scratches and bite marks, not to mention the unpleasant feeling of dried semen on his skin and the looseness of his ass so there was no denying that he'd had sex...but had it really been with Ian? _His_ Ian?

"No, I'm sorry,"� the creature inhabiting Ian's body murmured, his tone of voice completely different to that of his lover. "It's...its Burns again but...but Ian's here...I can hear him..."�

"...but he was here last night?"� Mickey mumbled, pulling himself away from the figure so that they could both contort their bodies into a more respectable seated position. "I didn't imagine that, did I? He took charge...it was him, wasn't it? It wasn't just some...trick, was it?"�

Those reflective eyes unfocused for a moment before Burns finally answered,

"He says, _stop being a fucking idiot, of course it was me."�_

That...that was Ian...the words...the inflections...

 _"_ _Honestly, Mickey,"�_ Burns continued to relay the words only he could hear, pitching his voice exactly as Ian would have. _"_ _Do you think a Soul could fuck you the way I did?"_

He even used a derisive tone on the word _Soul_ just like Mickey could imagine Ian doing...

"...I'm glad you're still here, Ian,"� he found himself mumbling, rubbing at some of the dried semen in order to remove it from his skin. "Are you...are you going to disappear again?"�

Burns actually chuckled softly.

"I shan't repeat exactly what he said, mostly because of the language used," the _Soul_ murmured with an almost fond smile. "I shall, however, tell you that he thinks you're an idiot if you believe that he's going to disappear now, given how long he's been fighting to come back. And I would like to add that I shall not try to remove him; his feelings for you are stronger than any I have experienced before. He loves you. And if you love him even half as much it would be...it would be criminal of me to separate the two of you even further..."�

A warm feeling pooled in Mickey's stomach.

"Oh."

"He also says you should put some clothes on before you freeze to death,"� Burns continued, already reaching through the gap in front seats to collect the items of clothing that they'd abandoned the night before. "He would rather all of your...e _xtremities..._ remain intact."�

"... _extremities_ , huh?"�

Mickey snorted at the redheads cheeks flushed.

"He didn't use the word extremities, did he?"�

"No, Ian was rather specific about which parts of you he would prefer to remain intact," Burns confirmed, his gaze focused nowhere he was sorting the clothing out into two very distinct bundles. "So why don't you put your clothes on so that he'll stop being so graphic about what he doesn't want to see happen to your...to your...just get dressed. Please."�

So Ian was tormenting the _Soul_ inhabiting his body by being his usual blunt self, was he?

He held out for a moment longer, chuckling to himself, before the chill in the air prompted him to accept the bundle of clothes from the redhead so that he could pull his clothes on.

"So...how long can you two share Ian's body?"� he couldn't stop himself from asking once he was fully dressed in the multiple layers he'd been wearing the day before. "Safely, I mean."�

"I'm afraid I have no idea,"� Burns responded as he tucked his shirt collar down over the tie he had just finished reapplying smartly. "As far as I'm aware it has never been done before."�

Mickey grimaced.

That didn't sound very promising.

Burns cleared his throat almost apologetically as he continued,

"So...so I guess we shall have to...wait and see..."

A semi-tense smile fell over the couple for a long moment before Mickey finally gave in and asked the question which had been bugging him since the day that the aliens had invaded.

"...is there a way to take a _Soul_ out of a _Host_?"

"Yes,"� Burns answered reluctantly, his voice thick with emotion as he looked away from Mickey's vivid blue eyes, instead staring out of the window and the lightly falling snow. "But without a _Host_ I wouldn't survive long in your atmosphere. I would need another human _Host_ in order to survive. Or a hibernation pod, I suppose, but they keep those well guarded."�

So, Mickey surmised silently as he fiddled with the fingerless gloves he'd just finished pulling onto his shaking hands, the only way to get his Ian back was to sentence the _Soul_ to death.

It should have been an easy choice.

 _Souls_ were the enemy, after all.

And yet...

"...what do you mean by _hibernation pod?"_

"It is a device which was designed to store us safely as we travel from one world to the next," Burns explained, running his fingers through his hair to straighten it out. "But as I said they are usually guarded and only those with the proper authorisation can access them."�

"And I don't suppose you're one of those _Souls_ with proper authorisation..."�

"...given that you found me working on my lesson plans for tomorrow...t _oday_ I think that the answer to your question should be pretty obvious," Burns responded, sounding remarkably like Ian in that particular moment, the corners of his mouth lifting up into the smallest of smile. "Only those involved in the hibernation process have completely unrestricted access."�

"What about Seekers?"

Ian's... _B_ _urns..._ expression fell into a frown.

"Seekers must obtain authorisation to do anything," the _Soul_ responded softly, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. "It might be possible, should you manage to coerce a Seeker into doing your bidding, but it would be flagged by those in charge and would leave a trail to follow."�

"Oh."

~ * ~

_As he moved through the motions of dressing himself in the rumpled clothes he had selected from his wardrobe the day before Burns couldn't fight the feeling of confusion growing deep in his belly; could his species have been wrong about the human race needing their help?_

_Yes, their actions and behaviour had literally been destroying their planet but perhaps, had the been given the chance, they would have been able to correct their ways by themselves._

_None of his previous_ Hosts _had ever survived the blending process, or rather, none of them had ever had the strength to make their presence known if they had. Before blending with Ian he had never even considered the possibility that anything of the Host could survive and now, now that he knew better, the knowledge made him feel physically sick. He hadn't been placed into an empty vessel as they were all indoctrinated to believe; he was nothing more than a parasite, oppressing a living creature with thoughts and feelings, so many feelings..._

**_..._ ** **_you ok?_ **

_I..._ _I don't know..._

_"_ _We should probably head off,"� Mickey announced, pulling on the release handle to open the door on his side of the vehicle. "We've got a bit of a hike ahead of us to reach the cabin."�_

_"_ _Cabin?"� Burns repeated, frowning softly. "You've been living in a cabin?"�_

_"_ _Yeah. It's not on any records, my dad won it in a poker game years ago," the dark haired human explained as he exited the vehicle, his feet crunching in the snow. "Perfect place to hide from the likes of you, or at least it was until Liam got sick."�_

**_Liam's sick?!_ **

_"_ _Who is Liam?"� Burns enquired with a frown as he followed Mickey's example and exited the car. He couldn't surprises a violent shiver as his feet disappeared into the foot of snow, his shoes doing little to protect his feet from the unbelievable cold. "Ian seems quite distressed."�_

_"_ _Liam's his little brother,"� Mickey sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He...he ran off after me and my dad got into a fight. Got cold and...well.. Got sick. That's why we risked going into town; we raided a clinic for all the medicine we could get our hands on. For Liam."_

_"_ _We? I thought you were alone?"�_

_"_ _No. My dad and brothers came too, as did Lip, that's Ian's older brother and Tony, the cop,"� Mickey explained, his final statement seeming more instinctive than the rest. "I got left behind when the plan went sideways but they got away with the medicine so Liam should be fine. Sorry. I should have mentioned it when I realised Ian was still in there, when he...but..."�_

_An image of a giggling little boy with skin the colour of chocolate appeared before his eyes._

_He is your brother?_

**_Yes_ ** _, Ian's voice chuckled sombrely. **Don't let his skin colour fool you. We've got the DNA tests to prove it. It's a recessive gene, or something like that. But he's definitely ours.**_

_Oh..._

**_You've been saying that a lot today._ **

_I..._ _I find myself struggling with words a lot more than I ever have in the past today..._

_"_ _Come on," Mickey ordered, nodding towards the woods ahead of them. "Let's get going."_

_Following the human was more difficult than he would have anticipated given that he had never had to traverse snow before and found himself to be completely unsteady, his feet struggling to find purchase on the ground beneath the snow. Ian offered him a couple of pieces of advise, such as extending his arms to improve his balance and placing his foot down as flat as possible whilst still leading with the toe rather than the heel as he would normally and after about an hour he was able to keep up with Mickey's demanding pace._

_Thank you._

**_No problem,_ ** _Ian reassured him. **It's my body you'll be hurting if you fall, after all.**_

_Burns felt his stomach clench unpleasantly once more._

_I'm sorry._

**_..._ ** **_for what?_ **

_For what my people have done to yours. I...I never realised that the_ Host _could survive. I don't...my species cannot survive without taking a_ Host _, that is a fact but perhaps we should...we should have kept away from_ Hosts _that already had_ Souls _of their own..._

_Ian hesitated for a long moment before finally responding with,_

**_Apology accepted._ **

_I won't try to suppress you any more, I promise._

**_Thank you._ **

_I don't want to die._

_The words came out of nowhere, startling Burns almost as much as they startled Ian._

**_That's perfectly normal._ **

_No, no, what I meant was..._

_For a long moment he struggled to voice the thoughts rushing through his brain._

_I don't want to die but if they find a way to remove me from your body then they should do it, even if there isn't another Host for me or a hibernation pod...if the choice comes down to you or me, Ian, then I want them to choose you. I do not wish to be a parasite any longer._

**_You...do you really mean that?_ **

_Yes. I...I do not wish to take your place now that I understand what that truly means._

**_..._ ** **_thank you._ **

~ * ~

 **A/N** I am SO sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out but I have had major writers block regarding this story for months. I've had half of this chapter written for so long it's actually a little bit ridiculous. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait and I shall try my hardest to get the next chapter out a lot quicker. Comments  & Suggestions are always welcome. X


	9. Chapter Eight

**Title:** For Him

 **Author:** Marblez

 **Fandom/Genre:** Shameless USA

 **Relationship(s):** Mickey Milkovich/Ian Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher/Tony Markovich

 **Content Rating:** R

 **Warnings:** Slash, Het, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Homophobia, Racism, Past Child-Abuse, Minor Character Death, Teen/Underage Pregnancy, Abortion _(referenced)_  

 **Summary:** The world ended on a Tuesday. It didn’t explode. There wasn’t a nuclear war. It didn’t get hit by a meteor. Hell, it wasn’t even anything to do with the dreaded “global warming.” It ended because of an alien invasion. Yup. Actual fucking aliens.

 **A/N:** Whilst I am trained in ‘First Aid’ I am neither a doctor or nurse so please excuse any medical inaccuracies which might arise throughout this story. I’m also British and sadly have never travelled to America so there’s probably going to be some cultural mistakes as well. Sorry. X

 

**~ FOR HIM ~**

**~ Chapter Eight ~**

As they approached the cabin Mickey gestured for Burns to keep back, stepping out into the clearing first with his hands open at his sides. The sound of a shotgun being primed broke through the unnatural silence caused by the thick layer of snow covering everything in sight moments before Carl stepped into view on the covered porch with his gun aimed at Mickey.

“Come on, Carl,” Mickey grumbled loudly. “You can see its me.”

“You’ve been gone for a while Mickey,” the teenager pointed out, his aim never wavering even as he moved down the steps towards his target. “You could be one of them by now.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Mickey announced calmly, standing his ground. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a gun pulled on him, after all, and to be honest he’d been hurt by more knives than bullets so Carl’s interrogation would have gone much smoother if he’d held a sharp blade to Mickey’s throat. Not that he’d ever tell anyone that. “Now, how about you lower the fucking shotgun, Carl, before you do something you’ll regret. It’s me, not some creepy assed _Soul_ …”

A branch snapping behind him reminded him that there was a “ _creepy assed Soul_ ” hiding behind him who was a) inhabiting his boyfriends body and b) didn’t seem too bad, really.

Carl squared his shoulders,

“Prove it.”

“Oh, for _fucks_ sake…” Mickey hissed under his breath before bringing both his hands up to gesture at his cerulean blue eyes. “Look. Do you see a glowing ring around my pupil? No? Then I’m human, aren’t I? Just like I always have been so will you lower the fucking gun?”

“Ok, Mickey, you’re human,” Carl agreed. “But who’s your new friend in the shadows?”

Mickey looked back over his shoulder at where Burns was indeed hiding in the shadows.

This was it, the moment everything would change, and as far as Mickey could see there were two possible outcomes; everything would be alright or everything would go to shit.

Burns, no, that sheepish smile was all Ian, stepped out into the light.

“Hello, Carl.”

Silence.

For a long moment nothing more was said, in fact none of them even dared to move except for breathing, their breaths fogging in the air between them. Emotional tears began to well up in Ian’s eyes whilst Carl’s seemed to go impossibly wide. Mickey was, albeit reluctantly, impressed by how steadily the younger boy held the shotgun, still aimed at the centre of his chest, even though his attention was now on his brother…and the glowing circles in his eyes.

“… _fuck_ …”

“Carl, I can explain…”

“Fiona!” Carl screamed at the top of his voice, shrill with panic. “Get out here! _Now_!”

The sound of something metal, most probably a saucepan, hitting the floor pre-empted the heavy footsteps of not only the eldest Gallagher but everyone else inside of the cabin, bar Mandy and Liam, as they tumbled out onto the porch, armed with a variety of weapons. As one they stumbled to a halt, staring in shock at the familiar redheaded figure before them.

“… _Ian_ …”

“Hi, guys,” Ian, definitely Ian rather than Burns, responded. “Long time, no see.”

Fiona let out a sharp gasp, tears welling up in gee eyes as she stumbled down the steps.

“Oh My God…”

“He’s a _Soul_!” Carl gasped out, jerking his shotgun up to Ian’s face. “He’s got glowing eyes.”

At once every single weapon, Fiona’s included, was up and pointed at Ian. It was instinct for Mickey to dive in front of him, blocking as much of his lovers taller frame with his own body.

“Ian’s in there too,” he announced firmly. “Trust me. I checked. It’s not a trick.”

“I don’t understand…”

“It’s me, Fi,” Ian murmured softly, meeting her pained gaze with his own hopeful one. “I promise, it’s me. Burns, the Soul in me, has stepped back for a minute so that I can explain.”

“Burns,” Fiona repeated the named almost numbly. “You…I don’t…I don’t believe you…”

“It’s true,” Mickey announced firmly, glancing over his shoulder into Ian’s silver rimmed eyes when a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Look, when I got separated from…”

He went on to explain everything that had happened since the robbery.

 _Everything_.

Hiding in the school…

Meeting Burns Living Flowers…

Triggering Ian to come forward as the dominant personality…

Getting out of the town…

The talk they had had…

The things that had convinced him…

The secrets that only Ian could know…

As he spoke he took in the expression of the people gathered before him; Carl still looked doubtful but Debbie was gazing at Ian with hope. Fiona was frowning, taking in every single word before making her decision whilst Lip kept shaking his head in protest. Tony, well, he hummed and nodded just like a Cop would do when listening to a witness statement. His brother’s reactions were exactly what Mickey had expected them to be, confusion giving way to acceptance before returning to confusion when he reached the point in his tale where memories of their sex life had convinced him that Ian was really the one speaking to him. And finally there was his father oh-so-predictable reaction; anger. Pure, burning anger.

“That things tricked you, boy, now move out of the way so I can kill it.”

Even as Mickey spread his arms wide to stop him Fiona spun around to face the older man.

“You’re not killing my brother, Terry!”

“It’s not your brother, Fiona, it’s a fucking _Soul!_ It’s just trying to trick you!”

A second hand came to rest on Mickey’s other shoulder as Ian leaned around him.

“It’s me, Fi. I’m still in here, I swear,” the redhead murmured, his voice choked with emotion as he gazed at the family he hadn’t expected to ever see again. How he could ignore all the guns Mickey didn’t know. “Burns and I are…sharing, for lack of a better explanation. Look, let me prove it to you like I did with Mickey, OK? Ask me something that only I would know.”

After a long pause Fiona spoke up with her question,

“…who’s your real father?”

“Uncle Clayton.”

Mickey decided not to point out that he had known that already, Ian having told him about his true paternity soon after he himself had discovered the truth, as it would cause trouble.

“Who did I get to give you a blow job to make sure that you were definitely gay?”

“Lip!” Fiona gasped disapprovingly. “When did…?”

“Answer the question, _Ian_.”

A very un-Ian like blush spread across the redhead’s freckles cheeks as he slowly answered,

“Ian says it was your on/off girlfriend Karen.”

A shocked, fearful silence fell.

Debbie whimpered softly, clutching the baseball bet she held to her chest.

“… _Ian says_?” Lip repeated, frowning as he took a step closer to Mickey and Ian, the tip of the handgun he held coming to press against Mickey’s chest. “…you’re…you’re the _Soul_ …”

Familiar with being threatened with a gun Mickey held himself still as Burns answered,

“I am, yes. My name is Burns Living Flowers. I prefer to go by Burns. It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s fucking _weird_ …”

“Carl!”

“What?” the teenager defended himself. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. It _is_ fucking weird and you know it. We’re talking to the _Soul_ who chose to steal Ian’s body like he’s a…”

“I didn’t chose to be implanted in Ian’s body.”

All eyes snapped across to stare at the redhead who was frowning across at Carl.

“What?”

“I said, I didn’t chose to be implanted in Ian’s body. That’s not how it works.”

Tony, standing towards the back of the group with his pistol held ready to use but no longer aimed towards the _Soul_ , cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention before enquiring,

“So how does it work?”

“Who the fuck cares?” Terry blustered. “It’s a _Soul_. Only good _Soul_ is a dead _Soul_!”

“But…but what if everyone else is like Ian?” Debbie spoke up tearfully. “What if the _Souls_ we’ve…we’ve killed were…what if the _Hosts_ were still there? Could we have saved them?”

It was Burns’ turn to clear his throat in order to draw the group’s attention back to him.

“I have never heard of a _Host’s_ consciousness surviving the Implantation Procedure before now,” he admitted softly, his gaze meeting that of the tearful young woman. “However, that doesn’t mean to say that it does not happen. Yours is the most complicated species that we have settled amongst in recent millennia, both in terms of society and brain function, so it–”

“ _Millennia_?”

“How old _are_ you?”

Burns offered Mickey, the person who had voiced the startled question a smile,

“Not as old as you no doubt now think I am. This is only my second _Host_.”

“Who was your first _Host_?” Tony asked calmly. “Another human? Or…”

“My first _Host_ was a _Fire_ _Taster_ on the _Fire_ _World_ which is where I was born.”

“So… _Souls_ reproduce?”

“Of course,” Burns confirmed, startled. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Fiona shrugged, unable to put voice to whatever her reasoning was.

“Our reproductive cycle is not like that of your species,” Burns conceded, his voice adopting what Mickey had always referred to as the ‘teachers tone’ which on anyone else would have been a complete turn off but because it was technically Ian’s voice Mickey quite liked the way it sounded. “Only one in about five thousand _Souls_ has the ability to reproduce; the others are sexless and sterile. The fertile _Souls_ makes a conscious decision to reproduce, which sets the process in motion, and their body rips itself apart and each cell turns into an infant _Soul_. This creates an average of about a million _Souls_ , whilst the "Mother" perishes.”

Debbie gasped loudly, bringing a hand up her mouth in shock.

Everyone, even the other Milkovich’s, were unwillingly captivated by his explanation.

“It’s alright,” the _Soul_ hurried to reassure the sister of his _Host_. “Each infant _Soul_ carried with it a portion of its mother's memories, who in turn had some of its mother's memories which were also passed on. This allows us to access some of our ancestor’s memories. For example, I have vivid memories of the day that the _Vultures_ conquered our home, _Origin_.”

“Wait, you were conquered?” Lip demanded. “Don’t you guys normally do the conquering?”

“Although I don’t think we would use the term conquer to describe our assimilation of a species, yes, we are normally on the other side of the situation,” Burns answered. “In fact it is because of this event in our history that our culture has developed the way that it has.”

“Come again?”

“The _Vultures_ made life very difficult for us and so, in order to defeat them our ancestors took them as _Hosts_. This was the first time that we had done such a thing; before this we merely lived in the void of _Origin_ ,” Burns explained, everyone’s mouths dropping open in shock as they were given an unprecedented history of the enemy. “After assimilating the _Vultures_ we spread, taking the inhabitants of the other planets the _Vultures_ had previously conquered. It was difficult at first but the technology we gained by assimilating the _Spiders_ has since made the process quick and efficient, completely painless for the _Hosts_ we take and perfectly safe for the _Souls_ who are rather vulnerable when they are outside of a _Host_.”

“…so Ian didn’t suffer?”

“No, Fi, I didn’t,” Ian responded, the different inflections taking everyone by surprise as the redhead smiled tearfully at his sister. “I was called into my CO’s office at the ROTC camp and then the next thing I remember is seeing Mickey in a classroom with no control of my body.”

“Wait,” Lip interjected. “So you weren’t awake the whole time?”

“No, or if I was I don’t remember it now.”

“But if you were there, waiting to be woken up, then everyone else could be too. Fuck!” he cursed, punching his own thigh with his free hand as he spun around to face the rest of their group. “Debbie’s right; when we killed those _Souls_ we as good as killed their _Hosts_ as well.”

“Ian, can a _Soul_ be removed?”

“Yes. But without a cryotank they wouldn’t survive long in our atmosphere.”

“How?”

“I don’t know…”

They all saw the moment that Ian receded and Burns took back control of his body.

“The procedure itself is simple enough that any _Soul_ can perform it in an emergency,” the _Soul_ explained calmly despite the fact that he was now instructing them on how to kill him. “Our own bodies are small and ribbon like; we would fit in the palm of your hand. Each _Soul_ has approximately one thousand attachments which are used to secure control of the _Host_ by burrowing into the spinal column and brain stem. As with insertion the removal process requires a cut, no longer than ten centimetres and only a few millimetres deep, at the base of the skull. The _Soul_ will detach itself from the _Host_ and emerge with gentle coaxing…”

“Gentle coaxing?”

Burns placed his hand on Mickey’s shoulders once more as he asked,

“May I?”

“Sure.”

Mickey allow himself to be turned so that Burns could place a cupped hand against his neck.

“Like this,” the _Soul_ explained. “Forceful removal would hurt both the _Host_ and the _Soul_ and, in extreme cases, could be fatal for both.”

“Easy as that, huh?”

“Yes. However, the _Soul_ will last no longer than an hour without a cryotank…”

“Who cares about the fucking _Soul_?” Terry demanded, swinging his rifle so that it connected with Burns’ jaw, sending him thudding down to the floor amidst the various cries of alarm. Terry followed the _Soul_ down, straddling him to pin him to the ground. “Fetch me a knife!”

“Get off of him!”

Mickey threw himself at his father, aiming his shoulder at the older man’s side and putting enough force behind his attack to send them both rolling off of Burns who immediately scrambled backwards, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated, until he reached a tree.

A familiar punch to the jaw sent Mickey reeling to the side with a grunt of pain.

He scrambled to grab hold of his dad’s left arm, trying to stop the Milkovich patriarch from going after Burns again, and succeeded but only because Terry decided that beating his son was something that he could delay his attack on the _Soul_ for, pinning Mickey to the ground and delivering six punches in quick succession, breaking his sons nose and cracking his jaw.

“Terry! That is enough!”

Tony’s booming voice was accompanied by an arm wrapping around Terry’s thick neck from behind, trapping him in a choke hold until he finally went limp and allowed himself to be pulled away from his son’s bloodied form. Wiping his hand over his mouth, smudging the blood dripping from his nose and split lip across his face, Mickey’s gaze sought out Burns.

It appeared that hilts Terry had been distracted by his youngest son his other two sons had attempted to follow his example only to be foiled by the Gallagher’s; Iggy, a knife lying on the ground beneath his feet, had had his arms locked behind his back by Lip and Debbie whilst Joey lay on the ground cradling his private parts, Carl standing over him triumphantly.

“No one is going to do anything to Ian or the _Soul_ …or Burns until we have properly discussed it, do you hear me?” Fiona all but screeched, moving to help the dazed _Soul_ to his feet. “You heard him; do the procedure wrong and you hurt Ian. We can’t risk it. Not until we’re sure.”

“I will be more than willing to return your brother to you when the time calls for it,” Burns murmured sincerely. “If that means I shall perish then so be it. Sharing words with your brother has changed my way of thinking; we should not force the _Host_ into the ether, not when we can exist together. He has agreed to allow me to remain, for the time being.”

“Ian? Is this true?”

Ducking his head and smiling in such a way that it could only be Ian the redhead nodded.

“Yeah, Fi,” he responded sincerely. “He’s…he’s not that bad, honestly. He was horrified to learn that I was still here, not because he wanted my body for himself but because he’d never realised that a _Host_ could survive. It’s just not acknowledged amongst his species.”

“But he will let you go?”

“Yes, should the need ever arise. He doesn’t want to die but he will if there’s no other way. Personally I’m…I’m getting used to things as they are,” he continued with a small shrug. “It’s different, sure, but Burns isn’t a bad guy despite everything. So, unless his presence begins to have a detrimental effect on my health, his words, not mine, we’re happy as we are for the moment. And, should the time come, I’d rather we found a cryotank for him to use, ok?”

And that, it was decided, was that.

If Ian was happy to share his body and Burns was happy to live with them then so be it.

Of course, keeping Terry from killing him was no easy task, the eldest Milkovich convinced that the _Soul_ was only pretending to be their brother whilst gathering information on them.

Mandy had been thrilled to have her best friend back. She had been wary of Burns at first but, just as with everyone, the gentle soul (no pun intended) had eventually won her over.

And Liam, with the help of the medicine and Burns who knew more about it than they did, was quickly returned to full health and was over the moon to have his brother back.

Life, despite the circumstances, was good.

~ * ~

 **A/N** I can only apologise for how long this took. I made the mistake of starting two new stories before finishing this one off and they’ve kind of taken over my brain. I’ve also been in show recently (Guys  & Dolls – I played Sarah and had great fun) and have been accepted onto an overseas exchange with the Sea Cadet Corps so real life has been rather hectic just lately. I’ve just got the epilogue to go which hopefully won’t take me too long. Marblez. X


End file.
